


A Song of Ice and Fire: Vengenace of the She-Wolf

by The_One_True_Queen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_One_True_Queen/pseuds/The_One_True_Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, set in moment a series of events that would send Westeros spiraling out of control. As the Lannisters take power, the North rises to oppose them, only to be crushed with the execution of Eddard Stark and the purging of his House in Winterfell and King's Landing. His son and heir, Robb Stark, is crowned King in the North and marches on House Lannister in his vengeance-- only to be put down like a dog at the Red Wedding.</p><p>Very few Northern loyalists escape the tragic slaughter with their lives. Among them is Robb's younger twin sister, newly orphaned Ellaria Stark, now alone, broken, and afraid. With the help of her brethren, she manages to ride back North to Winterfell, and whiel taking it back from the Ironborn was easy, governing was much harder. </p><p>She takes her place on the Granite Throne as the last Stark in Winterfell, crowned by the remainder of her men. Her rule as Queen in the North has just begun, but she faces more challenges than winning the war for Northern independence, because in the Game of Thrones, you win or you die, and when she must decide the fate of the North, Ellaria will be forced to choose between her heart and her people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The She-Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> So Far....
> 
> The Stark Family has been torn asunder; since the death of Lord Eddard 'Ned' Stark, they have been scattered throughout the vast continent of Westeros.
> 
> After his father's death, Lord Robb Stark became the 'Young Wolf' and King In The North and the Trident; he set out to take down House Lannister as a whole, specifically those responsible for Ned's untimely and unlawful death. Catelyn Stark, Ned's widow, now advises her son as he campaigns-- and ignites The War of the Five Kings.
> 
> Robb's reign, however, would not last long: he and Catelyn were brutally murdered at the Twins as the result of a slight on House Frey during an incident known as the Red Wedding, along with those loyal to them in attendance. And Yet, the North has a Stark to rule still, even with the four younger Starks lost and an elder left to the Crows: Ellaria Stark, Robb's twin sister, has managed to escape most of the misfortune that has taken her family from her side.
> 
> Out of respect and tradition, a representative of the Northern Bannermen-- Ser Markus Reullius-- places the open circlet of hammered bronze and black iron spikes upon her head; she is crowned the 'She-Wolf', The Queen In The North and of Winter and the Trident. In her grief and in Robb's name, the young new Queen has vowed to finish what her twin brother started: to find her lost siblings, bring House Lannister down to its knees and kick it onto its back, and slaughter every man of Houses Frey and Bolton who had a hand in the Red Wedding in the process. And yet, this begs the question: will Ellaria, with the aid of her Bannermen and other allies throughout Westeros, muster up enough power to tear the Iron Throne apart, or will she, too, be betrayed by those who hail from her own lands?  
> \---------

**The Ruins of Winterfell, One Month after The Red Wedding - The Crypts**

Ellaria Stark was glad to be alone, shivering uncontrollably in the deep darkness. She was having a hard time holding back her tears even though no one else was with her as she hurried along with a torch to light her way—they were threatening to freeze on her cheeks as they were, and it was something she could not have. She could not show her pain now, not when there was so much she was responsible for now. Too many were expecting to see her strong too soon, and Ellaria was afraid to show how much pain she was really in. Yet here, in the Crypts, the young woman knew she could let her heart scream over and over, and no one would hear. No one except for her direwolf, Winter's Keeper, that is. And Ser Markus Reullis—who had a habit of finding Ellaria when she didn't want to be found.

The new Queen In The North instinctively followed the leading form of Winter's Keeper as she was guided into the most recently excavated floor of the Stark Crypts. The female led her mistress, past the numerous pairs of pillars until they veered to the right, where the latest sepulchers of the Starks of Winterfell had been erected. There stood the likenesses of Eddard and Robb Stark, iron swords in hand and ready to keep the restless spirits from wandering. Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf, was encased in stone at the young King's feet. There were two smaller mounds of partially cut stone set into the alcoves next to them, yet unfinished-- they were for Bran and Rickon, and their direwolves Summer and Shaggy Dog.

Ellaria first went to her father Eddard's statue. Winter's Keeper made a soft noise as she spread out her dark blue skirts and sat on the icy stones. The female Direwolf lay curled half around her, giving her warmth. Ellaria's heart ached and more tears flowed as she stared into the stone carving of her father's face-- his expression strong, his countenance proud. It was as if he was there, in the flesh, giving her one of his signature half-smiles...

If only the Gods could give a man back his head.

She took a heavy, shuddering breathe and sent the Gods a silent prayer for her father before turning to the statue of her twin brother. Ellaria felt unwhole without him in this world-- especially with no other Stark to turn to when the rest of them were scattered throughout the continent. The aching in her chest gave way to a hollow feeling, and Ellaria was afriad that she would never be whole again without Robb nearby, not even when her younger sisters Sansa and Arya, were safe and sound within the keep. In fact, her half-brother Jon was a man of the Night's Watch who had forsworn his family-- by her father's own mechanisms, no less --and was such no longer a Stark by name; even thought his surname was Snow, Ellaria never considered him an illegitimate son in the first place. And so, there were no Starks left in the North but her.

With the weight of having lost those who personified the pieces of her heart, Ellaria was left barren and alone. A hiccup echoed throughout the chamber, and she belated realized that the small sound had come from her. She turned her head into the silver-grey coat of her Direwolf and cried her heart out yet again.

* * *

**In the Winterfell Dungeons**

Tybalt lay his head against the cold stone wall of the Winterfell dungeon. Seven hells was he cold! And with bloody good reason. Ellaria had only allowed a single torch in his cell to keep him alive. And it wasn't as if his clothes would provide any heat. 

His once proud red jerkin was now dirty and tattered, the Lannister lion sewn on it had been ripped off viciously. His shiny boots had lost their shine as well as parts of the bottom, leaving his heel to the cruel ground. He shivered once more as he felt a draft and huddled into himself. But he knew it was only a matter of time. 

The Starks were an endangered species. Their father, mother, brothers, and a sister were dead. All that remained was a broken girl in King's Landing and the beautiful Ellaria. But he knew she would not give up so easily. He had met her once when she was friendly and warm. This war had left her grim and her heart as cold as his cell. Especially towards him. Apparently anything his family did was his fault. Or maybe she just didn't like him. He hoped it was the first.

He moved his hands up to scratch his cheeks. His once flawless face now had bruises from the angry lords and a long line of golden hairs had now appeared on his jaw line and cheeks. He was a mess and he knew it. And there was only one way to solve it all. He cleared his throat and let his golden voice yell out.

"Guard? Guard! Tell mi'lady that I would have words with her!"

* * *

**Farther to the North, Shadowstone**

The air was a burning chill that seared Adrian's lungs. He sighed, cracking a content smile. He loved the cold. Perhaps it was because he was born in the North. And he was a son of the Moon and Night, a Shadewood. 

The scent of cooking meats drifted up to Lord Adrian Shadewood as he stood on the landing adjacent to his bedchambers. Here, the wind was unrelenting, merciless. Looking out over the darkness of the wood below, he could just see the thin line of The Wall, with its hundred leagues away from Shadowstone, the seat of the House Shade. The "House of Night" was a fond nickname, an inside joke by the family and its household, and not too far from the truth.

Most Lords of the Shadowstone grew to pledge themselves to the Night's Watch, only after they married, and their wives bore them sons to carry on their names. Adrian had no such children as of yet, and he was only in his mid-twenties. His father had moved on to be a Sworn Brother, then died soon after, beyond The Wall, in the wilds of the North. Such was the fate of most men borne of Shadow and Stone.

* * *

**Entrance To The Crypts, Winterfell**

Markus stood weary from the past few days, but he stood still as stone his eyes wandering across the barren city llooking for any sign of a threat. He held his spear in his hand ready to strike at any enemy who would show themself to him. It was cold even by Winterfell standards, and he hoped that Ellaria... No the Queen she is the queen now, would not remain below for long. He felt the urge to go find her to be closer to her, yet he fought it as best he could he would guard her that was his duty.

The wind sounded like the howling of wolves through the city, one he had grown to love, a city of the north. It was almost a symbol of what the north had become. 

Eventually he could take it no more, and he called for another guard to take his place. Before descending into the crypts, the crypts who will never hold the lost bodies of the Stark family. As he walked down he could feel a tear fall down his face, he had fought with Robb who was a brother to him more so than any of his true born brothers could ever be.

 _And Robb had been killed and his body mutilated, while I guarded woman in a walled city, I should have been there_.

Ellaria felt the muscles in Winter's Keeper's back tense for a moment, and then relax just as swiftly. Footsteps echoed on the stone just soon after, and Ellaria lifted her face from the warmth to brace the cold. Torchlight glowed in the icy darkness, and she could just make out the handsomely shadowed face of her closest friend, MarkusReullius. Ellaria swiftly caught the tears on her cheeks and swiped them away, leaving her fair skin temporarily red; she sniffled and looked away from his tall, approaching figure in order to collect herself.

She had seen Markus' face on numerous occasions, when she was in a mood as empty as a cloudy winter sky, and it always bothered her, his expression. Ellaria hated that expression, usually because a smile was never able to stray too far from Markus' face for long. A heavy sigh escaped through her nose, and she gave him a weary smile.

"I've been down here so long that you had to come and fetch me, Markus?" 

Winter's Keeper made a soft noise, and Ellaria's hand moved of it's own accord to scratch her behind the ear as the direwolf's heavy head rested in her lap. She turned back to her father and twin brother, and her pewter and ice blue eyes lost their light before she closed them again. Ellaria was beginning to send the Gods a silent prayer, but was interrupted as a man's voice called out to her, startled her.

"My Lady! The prisoner has asked for an audience!"

Winter's Keeper lifted her head and pushed herself onto her paws; she padded back the way they had come without further ado, and Ellaria took it as a signal that she should resume her queenly duties. She stood slowly on stiff legs and brushed the dirt from her skirts. Moving to Markus' side, she said,

"I could use good company," Ellaria gestured the way her direwolf had gone as the guardsman called for her again.

* * *

**The Dungeons -Tybalt's Cell**

Ellaria and Markus had strode through the hollow keep of Winterfell on natural instinct, following a path they had walked so many times in the past month-- especially since Tybalt Lannister's capture in Riverrun. Her fingers instinctively curled into a tuft of silvery-white in her direwolf's coat, and the couple, followed by the guard, returned to the Dungeons where Ellaria's prisoner called home. The moment Winter's Keeper began to growl, the young Queen steeled herself for what was more likely than not to come: a battle of words and wills. 

She always hated coming here in order to see a man chained to the stone walls and mistreated by her men for the hell of it, even if he was a bloody Lannister. Ellaria hadn't been able to agree with Robb's treatment of Jamie, either-- her mother Catelyn would always turn her words against her, however, just as the Bannermen have done with Tybalt. 

"Can we not treat him with some deceny? How do we know that your brutality will not add wood to the fires and give the Lannisters more reason to think they must crush us?"

"How do you think your sisters are being treated, Ellaria, now that your father is dead? If Arya and Sansa are not dead already, they may have been beaten or raped-- or worse. This man is the Kingslayer: the only person this side of the Narrow Sea that we have as leverage to gain the girls' freedom. We must be seen as strong and unwavering, willing to do anything in order for our demands to be met."

Ellaria's face was set in stone as her mother's voice slipped away from her; she did not want any man present to see her buckle down and cry like a babe. As they came to Tybalt's cell, a harsh frown darkened her features. The man was in terrible shape from what she could see. His hair was an overgrown golden weed sprouting from his crown and face; his clothes were in dirty tatters, ripped and torn asunder; she could even see that one of his boots was missing a heel.

Tybalt sat quietly in his cell, running over his best negotiator's lines whilst hoping Ellaria would listen to reason. He closed his eyes and breathed. He was good at negotiating. He could do this. His father was calculating and brother were impulsive. His sister was manipulative. And Tyrion... Tyrion was a mix. But Tybalt had been different. He made sure that everyone got a fair deal in the end. At least those he cared for. Force was for brutes and manipulation was for cowards. Reason was his champion. Pity that Ellaria had so far ignored it. 

"In the name of the Seven Hells, you look half dead-- a state I cannot have you in," she said gravely, her old self slipping through the cracks in her armor as her brow knitted with small worry lines.

"Someone get him out of this damned cell!" the words burst from her raspy throat; the guards only hesitated a moment longer, and Winter's Keeper gave a sharp bark.

The door to his cell was unlocked and Tybalt Lannister was halfway unchained when she forced herself to turn away from the sight and ordered them to follow her back to the keep.

Tybalt gave a weak chuckle, "Please gents no fuss. Just feeling a bit under the weather is all. Little wine and meat and I'll be right as rain. Well rain as in the water that falls from the sky. Reyne the family is a different matter. They are anything but fine..."

He fell silent as the Rains of Castamere echoed through his head before he spoke up while following her, "Speaking of Reynes... We must discuss something akin to them, mi'lady. 

Ellaria shook her head slightly at Tybalt's usual easy-seeming manner. He babbled slightly, but she let him, having no qualms against him personally-- he just happened to be born under the wrong name.

"In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours." she naturally responded as they crossed the courtyard and entered the Great Hall.

"Your father felled the Red Lions years ago, Tybalt Lannister-- so what reason could we possibly have to speak of them?"

* * *

**Shadowstone**

Adrian looked out over the vast darkness that was his homeland, and sighed again. This dark place was his homeland, and he was glad for the fact that Adryan's descendants settled here and not farther down South. The War of the Five Kings was still raging, and with Adrian sending out his men to Ellaria Stark, the new Queen, Adrian had to wonder how long this war could last.

"Sooner or later, someone will give." Let us hope it is the Lion, and not the Wolf, he thought turning back into his room. Closing the thin shutter-doors behind him, Adrian settled down at his table.

Adrian sat at his desk, letting the fire in the hearth burn low before feeding it again. He contemplated what to write in his message to the Queen, and called in his steward, Mason Umber.

"You will send a messenger with this note to Winterfell immediately, understood?" The man nodded, and Adrian turned to his stationary.\

 

>   _To My Lady Ellaria Stark, Queen of the North,_
> 
> _I, Lord Adrian Shadewood of the Shadowstone, Lord of Shadow, do grant you a company of men if my lady should so need them. You may have little use for them, but I fear this is not the case. We of the Night will accompany you in your quest to end this feud of Stark and LAnnister by blood if necessary. With this message, I give you a host of twenty men. They are all I can spare, and I would beg my lady's forgiveness. Winter is coming, the North wind tells me this. Our harvest will be over in less than a fortnight, and my household must be secure. If need be, my men will ride a day after this pledge is made, and seek out the towers of Winterfell soon after. Again, I beg your lady's forgiveness, for these men are all I can spare. We shall meet in due time._
> 
> _Adrian Shadewod_
> 
> _Lord of the Shadow, Commander of the Tower._

 

* * *

**The Courtyard**

"Because, it is about to happen again, except the song will now be the Snows of Winterfell." Tybalt's voice is solemn and serious as he speaks, "My father holds onto a grudge for longer then is good for him. He has the support of the Westerlands, the Reach, parts of the Stormlands, the Freys, AND the Boltons. He means to wipe House Stark from memory. He has killed the alpha male and the matron and their oldest pup, he holds one pup, another has gone missing, and the kraken strangled the last two. Now it's you and a ragtag group of lords in a ruined castle soon to be set upon by enemies. You now have one choice. Negotiate."

Ice pierced Elllaria's chest, and she stopped dead at the mention of her family-- especially the bedraggled state it was in. Starks were forever lost, never to be found, or taken and hidden. Ellaria knew full well just how badly she needed support. Theon Greyjoy was a traitorous bastard who would rather suck his father's cock than stay loyal to her-- her family. Ellaria could barely even have the support of her Bannermen sans the Boltons, until she could actually prove herself in battle; action behind the words was all that mattered. The Riverlords were with her in a sense, even if the House that held the Twins was against her. And The Vale would back her, if only her insipid Aunt Lysa would actually lend aid to her family instead of coddling a sickly child, and....

The guards paused, nearly stumbling as they pulled Tybalt to a halt so as not to run into her. The urge to slap him into the melted snow at their feet was so strong, Ellaria could barely contain herself. She almost turned on him and used her ring hand, which was laden down with signets and seals, but she didn't want to break the man's jaw before she heard what he had to say to her. With clenched fists, Ellaria forced herself back into motion.

"From where I stand, you are the one who has reason enough to negotiate, Tybalt. Now speak your peace, or you will be reacquainted with the walls of your cell." Ellaria's voice was soft and hoarse, but clear enough to be deciphered.

They entered the Great Hall, and she ordered the guards to leave them in peace.

"I say it how it is. Believe me mi'lady, I wish none of this had ever happened. But things have spiraled out of control. Your allies run few. Your sister herself is a Lannister. So I need to ask you to do this. Endure. Let the Starks live on. Let me negotiate with my father for you. Most likely you will be stripped of the title of Lords Paramount and Wardens of the North, but you would keep Winterfell. You would all live. I cannot guarantee you the revenge you want against the Freys and Boltons but I can promise you that you will survive. Do not make me watch as you let your pride be your downfall. I do not want to see you raped by Freys and then flayed by Boltons while hanging over your own gates. Negotiate! Please. Let me help you end it all. The blood-shed, the betrayal, all of it. Enough have died. Live. Let House Stark continue. Do not become Reynes."

He falls silent and awaits her response, a look of genuine worry on his face.

Ellaria stared at him quietly from where she sat in the granite throne on the dais, having moved there as he spoke. She remained quiet and contemplative for a few moments before she finally said softly,

"Sansa is no Lannister-- mind your tongue, my lord. My sister is a prisoner of that arrogant little bastard you call Nephew, who thinks he rules from the Iron Throne. And yes, my allies are few, but we are not Wardens-- I am no Warden. We have been Kings and Queens in the North since Bran the Builder laid the foundation for this castle; since even after the King Who Knelt earned his name...."

Her words suddenly faltered under the weight of her situation, and the confusion as her thoughts jumbled together, not to mention Tybalt's sincere plea. She closed her eyes and bent her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Why in the world should I trust a single word you say? You are a Lannister, Tyablt. Lannisters have a knack for lying, you know. What could possibly say to your father to abate his so called "wrath"? And what would you care if the Freys and the Boltons did disgrace me? Yet again, I say that you are a Lannister! You took my family! All of them! I have no one, Tybalt; do you know what that feels like? To lose every single person you love to the people you hate the most?!"

Ellaria's voice had risen in octaves, until she was screaming at him. Her cheeks were a feverish red as the blood rushed to her face and angry, frustrated tears spilled over unnoticed and her chest heaved.

Markus stood quietly behind Ellaria, he brandished his long spear. His eyes daring Tybalt to give him any reason to use it, the Lannisters needed to be taught a lesson. That they are not immune, it took all his will to hold back his anger at this one man. He wanted to plead with Ellaria to have his way with him so that he would know the pain that the north had suffered. But instead he held his yongue it was not his place to speak here unbidden.

As Ellaria started screaming he almost moved forward to put his hand on her, to comfort her. But he couldn't, he hoped she would be angry enough to order the mans death.

Tybalt replied quietly, "I took no one from you. It was Ser Ilyn Payne under Joffery's command who cut your father's head off. It is Joffery who holds Sansa now. It was Roose Bolton who stabbed your brother. It was Raymund Frey who cut your mother's throat. I am Tybalt Lannister. Now maybe my last name does make me a liar, but what is that saying about Lannisters and debts?"

Ellaria attempted to compose herself, but she couldn't keep her hands from shaking. Her direwolf appeared from a side door and padded over to sit on her haunches at her feet. Ellaria cleared her throat several times; she hated him for saying it, but he was right. Tybalt himself had nothing to do with the butchering of her family-- again, he just happened to be born under the wrong name.

"A Lannister always pays his debts," she scoffed at Tybalt, unable to keep the full weight of her icy glare from him. " If you haven't noticed, Winter has come to Westeros, my lord. The ice and the snow will blanket this world and nothing will stop it. Mine is the fury."

She wiped angrily her cheeks yet again and settled into the throne. Ellaria ran a hair through her dark red hair and glanced over her shoulder at Markus. He looked just as murderous as she had been moments ago, only his intent had not been abated, it seems. She could see how tightly he gripped his spear-- his knuckles were snow white. She sighed heavily, feeling immature for her outburst at Tybalt even when she tried to keep her emotions in check. She glanced at the weary-looking man and gave a soft huff.

"Markus, would you see to it that Tybalt is bathed, fed, and clothed? He has been in the dungeons for too long-- I cannot murder a guest in my own lest my I wish to incite the Gods' wrath." Ellaria rubbed her eyes again and stood, moving down to the floor in order to be level with Tybalt.

"You are no longer my prisoner, Tybalt Lannister, but a guest in my home. Consider yourself welcome until I say otherwise."

Tybalt nodded and stood up, looking her in the eye. His sharp emerald eyes now held something else. Pity? Sympathy? Affection? It was impossible to tell before he looked back down to the ground and stood up to follow Markus.

As he went to leave he said over his shoulder, "And once more mi'lady, my condolences. I don't know how it feels to lose all that. Sad thing is... I've never had it to lose it anyway. Sleep well, Your Grace."

He swallowed a bit after calling her by her Northern title. And here he was, a Lannister of Casterly Rock, wishing Ellaria Stark happiness after all his family had done.

"My lord."

Ellaria watched the men go before she turned away from the door. Her feet, on the heels of Winter's Keeper, carried her to her private rooms, her parent's former chambers; there, Ellaria waved off any maid who tried to assist her and undressed herself, drew her own bath, and laid down to rest with her head on her direwolf's flank until supper was ready, her energy having been spent in so little time. 

* * *

**Some days later**

Tybalt strolled through the ruins of Winterfell one night, a fur cloak draped about his shoulders. His Lannister signet ring glistened in the moonlight as he strolled through the gardens. His beard had been shaved and he had been keeping himself washed and fed. But that certainly didn't help the fact that Ellaria had been giving him a more then cold shoulder. Whenever he would sit down to dine, she would get up to leave even if she hadn't finished.

As he walked he thought of how all the violence had broken a family. For him it was a hard concept to think of. He barely remembered his mother, his sister was little more then a well dressed whore, his older brother was a cocky knight who, while was friendly with Tybalt, made no effort to even seem honorable. And Tyrion, dear Tyrion was all but ignored by his family. The only family he had really ever felt love to was his uncle Gerion.

Gerion was said to take after Tytos' peaceful attitude. He was the one to shape Tybalt. He was a second son so naturally he and Gerion had something in common. He remembered Gerion bumping him up and down on his knee while singing songs like "The Lion Who Lost His Roar" or "The Bear and the Maiden Fair".

Tybalt had loved Gerion. And then the jolly uncle sailed off to Valyria and never returned. And Tybalt was left to the cold regard of his father.

The Lannister gave a sigh as he looked up at the moon, wishing his uncle, mother, and grandfather were not being punished for their relations' choices.

Ellaria had wandered out, more than glad to be alone when she took her routine nightly walk about the castlegrounds. She shivered as an icy breeze lifted her skirts and brushed against her legs, and kept moving so as not to freeze where she stood. The young woman wasn't so bothered by the frigid cold that whipped her hair from her shoulders than the recent ice that had settled into her heart; she knew that she had been little more than cruel to Tybalt these past few days, blatantly ignoring the man whenever she caught sight of him-- much to her men's delight. And yet, it made her uncomfortable because it was not her natural way; she just couldn't stand to be reminded that a Lannister walked her halls, bidden as a now Honored Guest....

Ellaria would like to apologize, but she did not want to seem weak to her Bannermen, or Tybalt himself. She pulled her unlined, dark grey cloak tighter about her shoulders as walked on, towards the Godswood. Ellaria just so happened to look up when the clouds revealed the moon-- and Tybalt Lannister, standing not too far away. She paused in her step, unsure of what to say.

Without taking his eyes off of the moon above, Tybalt chuckled a bit, "Evening Your Grace."

Ellaria jumped, a small gasp slipping from her throat. She half turned to go, but then thought better of it. Mustering herself, she forced her chin into the air and moved to his side.

"My Lord," she said softly, her breathe misting into the air. She cleared her throat. "Are you watching the moon?"

Tybalt gave a small nod, "Yes. And no. My eyes are looking at it but my mind... my mind is moving between Casterly Rock and Valyria."

"Your home. How reasonable." Ellaria murmured, but then frowned slightly in confusion. "But if I may ask, why Valyria?"

Tybalt turned toward her, his eyes meeting hers, "That is where my uncle Gerion sailed off to and never returned. When I found out, I begged my father to give me a ship to look for him. Do you know what his response was? 'The damn fool wanted to get himself killed then that's his problem. I'm not wasting my son on that joke of a brother of mine.' I never looked at my father the same way again after that. That is why Valyria."

Ellaria blinked, unable to look away from him. There was something in his too-green eyes that told her this was a something of a rare moment, and she didn't want to throw it away.

"You lied to me, then." she said suddenly, compelled to speak her mind. With a softer tone, she added, "You have lost someone, Tybalt."

She did not know what to say to him, other than apologize; but she felt that it might not be want he wanted to hear. Ellaria tilted he head thoughtfully, staring at him intently.

Tybalt gives a short nod, "And I did what my father expected of me. I shut out the fact that I loved him. I shut out everyone. Numbers, letters, and a quill were my friends a family. Gold was our joy. While the boys adored Cersei and the girls adored Jaime, I had to imagine someone actually ever adoring me. Sure I suppose I am kind of handsome but the only time I swung a sword I nearly chopped Tyrion's head off. Father says I was even more of a failure since I didn't take his head."

His eyes hold something. Something wanting to appear on his face but is forced down.

Ellaria winced as his tone took a slightly darker turn; it didn't sound right, and she didn't like it. The way he spoke of his family made Ellaria miss hers more, but now was not the time to wallow in her own self-pity as she had been doing. Abruptly, she chose to ignore the fact that she was a Stark and he was a Lannister, that she was a Queen and he was a Lord-- that they were sworn enemies in all things natural, the Lion and the Wolf. Ellaria chose to remember that Tybalt was still a man, and that she was still a woman; they were beings whom the Gods forced to succumbed to themselves, to their passions and their rages-- and to the treatment they were given.

"At least now I know that I am no longer alone, in the fact that I am alone," Ellaria said as she searched his eyes for whatever he was hiding from her.

She could see that he had no one-- even though he had the privilege-- or curse, it seemed-- to see their faces everyday. Ellaria had noticed that Tybalt was withdrawn, even when she knew him simply as the Laughing Lion of the Lannisters. She just might have something in common with a Lion after all. Ellaria let her eyes give his a reprieve, and she stared off into the dark wood.

"I knew your father once. I thought him a unloving man, even then; all he cared for was the praise his name was showered with. Cersei is.... Cersei. There are no words I can say to hide her true nature save that she is but a force to be reckoned with; she is shrewd and cunning and manipulative. I must say that your brother Tyrion is quite the character. He is whom I would favor, above the rest of your family. For a 'little imp' as Tywin so cruel puts it, Tyrion has a knack for getting himself both in and out of trouble with his words alone, I have seen it. Your brother Jamie is handsome, yes-- but Seven Hells! His handsomeness is too much for me, and I find that it is unbearable to be around for too long...."

The moon was blanketed by the clouds again, and Ellaria paused and gave him a sideways glance. "Your handsomeness, however, suits me just fine."

Tybalt gave a heartfelt chuckle and smiled at her, "You do me honor, Your Grace. To be fair as well... you are quite the beauty too."

He felt his heart tug a bit in his chest at her sidelong glance and how her beautiful blue eyes caught the last hints of moonlight like a gem. He turned his eyes fully to her, the pain of his past subsiding beneath the compliments she gave him.

A fine red brow lifted slightly. "So you can smile? I might have never known," Ellaria shook her head slightly and lifted her hood to block the wind, forced to lift her head in order to see him better.

Something was stirring deep inside of her chest as she looked at him, and she wanted to tamp it down because it unnerved her-- but not before she could decipher the expression on his face now.

"Why do you look at me that way?" she asked reluctantly, her brow knitting.

Tybalt raised a shiny golden brow in his own response, "What other way would I look at you?"

Ellaria found herself wondering the same thing, and a list of things ran through her mind. Unable to settle on one answer, she said,

"There must be several other ways, I would imagine. Seeing as I have held you in little more than a cage since we left Riverrun, save for the past few days. How are you feeling, by the way? I apologize for not asking you sooner, I was..."

She found herself slightly babbling, and was going to say "hoping you wouldn't notice me", but that was rather rude. Instead she concluded, "I was preoccupied..."

Tybalt rolls his eyes, "It's alright. I'm used to having people preoccupied. My father didn't have any time for me because he was always "preoccupied" with matters. Those matters often being that he was with Jaime or Cersei."

Just then he realized his voice was becoming bitter so he quickly got back on track, "But I'm alive and well. You've treated me kindly for the uncle of the boy who called for your father's head. I cannot and will not complain."

"That's not what I meant," Ellaria began to say, but tried to start over. "You are not your brothers, nor your sister, but yourself. You are Tybalt, and you are good. I would rather preoccupy myself with you than any other Lannister a thousand times over."

Her words had not registered in her mind for a few moments, but when they did, her face was set painfully aflame.

"I did not mean-- I mean, but not in that way... Not to say that that would so terrible, but-- I mean-- In the Name of the Seven, nevermind!"

Ellaria huffed crossly, throwing up her hands.

A laugh escaped his lips and blew out into the cold air as he kept chuckling. He turned to her with a smile, "Then allow me to say that I'd rather preoccupy myself with you than with your bannermen."

His emerald eyes still sparkled a bit even outside of the moonlight as his white teeth flashed at her, the laughter rolling off his tongue with ease.

"But of course you would, Tybalt. That still makes nothing better!" Ellaria rolled her eyes at him, unable to keep a small smile from her face.

It was hard not to notice how handsome he was when he smiled that way. Ellaria pushed the thought into the back of her mind, and looked then towards the Godswood, cloaked in a deep darkness.

"Would you escort me? I must pray before I sleep."

He nods and proffers her his arm, "But of course. I've always been fascinated with the godswoods. Makes the Old Gods seem so much more... alive than the Seven."

"Mother held to the Faith and so taught us their ways, but Winterfell's Godswood has stood for the past 10,000 years. The Faith have nothing like this that anyone knows about. I guess one could say that my siblings and I are more attuned to more the Old Gods than Faith? It is often hard to tell."

Ellaria took his arm and started into motion, walking towards the trees, unbothered for a torch.

Tybalt nods, "We Lannisters aren't really one for gods, so you'll excuse me if I'm not inclined towards either the Old or New."

Ellaria opened up her mouth, as an insult was on the tip of her tongue, and then thought better of it.

"Fair enough," was all she said as they broke through the dense trees and found themselves in the wood.

Instinct led Ellaria's feet as she led her escort through the wood silently for a ways. It smelled of earth and a broodiness that would not go away, of the centuries that the wood had been dark, even by day. Ellaria led Tybalt past the Sentinels, Oaks, and Ironwoods, the Hawthorn, Ash, and Soldier Pines. Soon, they found the ancient weirwood tree, with its blood red leaves and bone-white bark. Its melancholy face cried tears of blood, and Ellaria forced herself to keep her breathe even so as not to disturb the peaceful quiet.

She reached out gingerly to brush her fingers against the crying face and a warmth surged from the living wood beneath them.

"This tree is Winterfell," she said quietly. "Sansa once told me that she felt as though the Old Gods were watching with a thousand unseen eyes..."

Tybalt moved his fingers against it as well as he inspected it. "It's crying..." His voice is sad as he looks at it.

"All weirwoods cry, Tybalt. As I said, this is Winterfell. Winterfel is empty-- this tree weeps. The wolves are slaughtered, and this tree weeps. The earth is burned and the Keep crumbled-- this tree weeps."

Ellaria drew her hand away; in the moonlight, she could plainly see smears of dark red on her fingers and the bark of the tree.

"Winterfell bleeds-- this tree bleeds."

Tybalt looks into the eyes of the weirwood only to be blown away with guilt. His family did this. He might as well have done this. He had always thought of the Lannisters as the good lions who defend their claim. Now... now they were killers of fathers, mothers, and kicked the orphans into the dirt. In that moment, he hates who he is...

Ellaria squeezed Tybalt's shoulder and held a finger to her lips when he looked to her, signaling him to be quiet. gave a heavy sigh and sat down on the cold, hard ground; she turned to lean her back against the tree and closed her eyes, a prayer on her lips as it always was, whenever she came to the Godswood. She prayed silently and quietly, her breathe even and unlabored, her whispering voice as soft as the rustling of the canopy leaves.

Tybalt went over at a respectful distance and watched her silently as the moon came back out to cast its light on her. At that moment, she could have been the Maiden for all he knew. Her beauty was enhanced in such light as the silver beams reflected off her fiery hair and made her skin seem to glow. He watched as he heard her whispers going about like the wind, making him shiver. Yes, it was official. Tybalt Lannister was going insane.

A small breathe escaped Ellaria's nose and an icy wind snapped at her, causing her to flinch and break her concentration. She nearly cursed before she caught herself, but was able to intertwined her fingers and settled deeper against the tree, as though to pray harder. Ellaria stayed that way, in the frigid, blood-freezing air for what seemed like hours, although only minutes had passed. When she was done at last, Ellaria opened her eyes to reveal a sheen of unshed tears. She stood up on shaky legs and braced a hand against the tree. Looking up at Tybalt-- he was giving her that indecipherable look again --she spoke with complete and utter honesty in a rasp,

"I fear they will not hear me. I have been praying since since my twin brother was murdered, Tybalt, and I fear that none of the Old or New will hear me."

Her fingers clenched into a fist, and she raked a hand through her hair in frustration.

"None of my prayers have been answered-- my sister has not come home because no one will hear me..."

A comforting hand fell on her shoulder and he helped her stay steady. He moved her chin up to look into his eyes as he spoke softly.

"It may be bad to associate you with him but... when my mother had trouble birthing Tyrion, my father spent hours praying in the Sept. He prayed for hours on end, and when my mother died giving Tyrion life... he broke. I don't remember how many pots and plates and statues he smashed but last thing he did was tear apart the sept in a rage. When we asked him about it he replied with, 'They didn't listen. Now I will make them.' When the gods do not listen, we have to do what WE can. We have to turn prayers into goals. You want your sister? Gods don't do that kind of work. You will have to do that. And I will help you."

* * *

**Just beyond the Gates of Winterfell**

Lord Adrian Shadewood stifled the groan that was rising in his throat. He was weary from travel, yet he knew that the Queen had not much time left.

He had folded the letter, and pressed his seal to paper. He'd been about to give it to Mason, but then he thought that it was much better to deliver the men in person, and see what plans the Queen had.

"I've changed my mind. The Night shall ride at daybreak." Mason looked confused, but did not question his lord. He bowed his head, then left the room, leaving Adrian alone. In the morning, Adrian mustered his household, with his mother, the Lady Felice, and his sisters, nine-year-old Adreya and eleven-year-old Adryna, to head out by the afternoon. His House was only fifty strong with Mason as his steward, Maester Caelyn, and Ser Jasper Umber, Mason's cousin as captain of his household guard. He left Caelyn and Alistair, Jasper's cousin, in charge until his return.

The Shadewood line had dwindled over the years, and Lady Felice had hoped to match Adrian with one such as Ellaria Stark. Adrian had no hope for the match, albeit she was a beautiful woman, Adrian would choose his own wife. Now he was holding against the cold night, and his mother and sisters were sleeping in the carriage as they rode for a day and a half. Winterfell was at least half a day away.

"Mason," Adrian called. His best friend and steward was at his side in an instant. The men had been resting for a bit.

"My lord?"

"Tell the men that we'll be moving on now. Winterfell is close, and I would not have them sleep in the snow when there may be beds waiting for them." Mason nodded and followed his Lord's command, calling the men.

"We've not that far to go. Kyah!" he dug his heels into his black stallion's side and the steed started down the hill. By the time they reached the gate, it was late. The snow that began to fall had left blankets on the ground, and the horses and carriage took coaxing and pushing to move. Adrian would have preferred to arrive before the sun had gone down, or at least int he morning, but it was no use complaining about the cold. The Starks-- or what was left of them --and the Shadewoods were born and raised in the cold. Even if Ellaria Stark, her siblings, and Adrian and his sisters had been born in Summer.

Moving ahead of the men, Adrian and Mason rode up to the gate. He could see the guards moving along the paths atop the wall of stone. "Halt!" someone shouted. "Who goes there?"

"A friend of Winter!" called Adrian. "We who were born into the Night!"

"The Lord Shadewood? We bid you enter, m'lord!" The guard them turned away, and the gates began to open. Adrian and the remainder of his House that hadn't stayed in Shadowstone followed him through the gate. They entered the inner courtyard, and the castle's keep was dark as it loomed over them. Adrian noted a passing guard.

"Is the Queen about?" he asked. 

* * *

**The Godswood**

Ellaria found herself standing very still within the close proximity of Tybalt Lannister, even when a tear fell onto her cheek. He was close enough so that she could feel his natural warmth reaching out to her, and she suddenly wanted to reach back. His golden hair was silver in the pale blue moonlight, and his eyes were a dark green that reminded her of the Wolfswood in the summer-- they were so deep and so green and so bright that she felt as though they were drawing her in. His hands were burning her, especially where their flesh made contact; Ellaria felt her cheeks catch fire and mimic her hair still, but not from the cold.

She had never actually been this close to any man before save her father Eddard and her uncles. She felt as though Robb didn't count because he was her twin; her uncles Edmure and Brynden didn't count. Markus was.... Markus. Her closest friend and unofficial Steward-of-a-sorts, and Ellaria had grown accustomed to having his presence near; Jamie Lannister was her enemy and a man in a cage-- and so was Tybalt, once. Her enemy, a man in her cage; she was supposed to hate him with every natural fiber in her being because he was, in fact, the brother of the Kingslayer and the uncle to the Usurper who took her father's head 

Yet here he was, so close to her. Close enough to touch, most definitely close enough to kiss--

Ellaria started and smoothly took his hand in hers to remove her chin from his grasp. She then stepped out of Tybalt's reach, back into the trunk of the heart tree; clearing her throat several times, she tore her gaze from his and replied,

"Y-yes-- uhm, it is bad to associate me with your father. For one thing, I am no man," she gave a small, awkward laugh. "But, ah, I suppose I would warn you first, if I'm about to denounce the Gods and annihilate my mother's Sept as though I were Aegon the Conquerer..."

Ellaria began to nod, and looked to him again. "I could use some help in getting my sister back home, if you are willing to give it. I fear your father would crush metherwise...." she cleared her throat again, and brushed the freshly fallen snow from her skirts and cloak. 

A man's shout called her attention to the forefront, and she paused as she heard several men calling her name.

Ellaria frowned slightly, she asked Tybalt as she moved past him, "What could be going on?"

Tybalt shrugged and let her lead, "After you Your Grace."

As he followed her he shivered a bit. He had been close to her so that her breath was felt on his chin even now. Her eyes had been shimmering pools that he couldn't help but get lost in. Her hair was the same color as the weirwood leaves above them. And in the moonlight, her figure was exquisite. Shapely, lovely, but strong and commanding as well. At least until he disturbed her and forced her back on the trunk. And he knew it was true. She wouldn't think of him like that. Even now she backed away.

Him and her couldn't be together. He was a dishonorable Lannister. A man with gold hair and emerald eyes. A vicious lion. She was an honor born Stark. A Red Wolf with ocean eyes. She would marry a proud northern lord most like. And he, knowing his father, would be married to some ally of the Lannisters. Certainly not as beautiful as the wolf before him and probably even less intelligent.

But he would not give up.

He would help her. Even if it killed him. And if he did, he'd come back and enjoy haunting Cersei.

Ellaria could not stop shivering, or glancing back over her shoulder at Tybalt before she caught herself.

Something was happening, and she wasn't sure it was the best thing...

She broke through the treeline ahead of him; when a guard spotted her, he gave a shout:

"The Queen In The North comes!"

Ellaria paused, and took a moment to straighten herself further.

"Who in their right mind would think to come to Winterfell at this time of night?" she wondered aloud before moving forward again, into the golden torch light that lit the ground she walked on.

As she entered the courtyard, she noticed a small company of men and horses and carts, and a carriage with the House Shadewood crest engraved into it; an older woman was stepping out with the aid of a two younger men, carrying a sleeping girl in one arm.

"Adrian!" Ellaria gasped, surging towards the Lord of Shadewood. "What in the Name of the Seven are you doing here so late?"

Adrian had dismounted and moved past his men to help his mother out of the carriage. He knew she would be awake now; she had a knack for appearing at the oddest times, such as when Adrian was in the middle of important foreign affairs, and she would force him to at least down some bread and water to keep himself going-- or now, when they arrived in Winterfell. She had been an an acquaintance of Catelyn Stark when she'd visited Riverrun, and letters had passed between the two until now. Until her death and death of her son, King Robb of the North.

Lady Felice Shadewood stepped out of the carriage with Mason's help, and put a pale hand in her son's dark hair. "Where is the little one?" a common saying from when they'd been little. Ellaria was 7 years younger than Adrian, and where one had gone as a child during visits to Winterfell, the other followed. Adrian turned at the sound of the sweet voice he hadn't heard in what felt like years.

"There, mother. There's the little wolf," Adrian took his mother's hand, and met Ellaria halfway. "Your Grace," he said as they bowed low. "House Shadewood pledges its men to the cause of the Wolf."

Ellaria blinked at the pair and nearly forgot protocol, she was so surprised. She curtsied and answered politely.

"I thank you, Lord Adrian, Lady Felice-- the need for more men is paramount if we are to fell the Lannister host. Your contribution is gravely appreciated."

Ellaria smiled warmly at them. "And apparently, I am no longer a 'Little Wolf', but a She-Wolf. Some even say that I am half Direwolf!"

At the mention of her kin, Winter's Keeper appeared out of nowhere, casually from the Godswood. Her mistress tutted at her, wondering if she'd been there the whole time before she looked back to the Shadewoods.

"Ah, this--" she gestured to Tybalt, "as you can surely see, is Lord Tybalt Lannister. He is an Honored Guest of Winterfell, as are you for the duration of your stay, my lord and lady; there is most certainly no need to rush back home," she gave Adrian a pointed look, gesturing to his mother and the girls.

"Come along, little stars," Ellaria coaxed softly as Adrian's 9-year-old sisters took her hands. "You both look like you could use a nice, hot meal, a bath, and a warm bed. And I shall personally have your elder brother flogged for dragging you out here into the winter night like this!"

She was about to call on Maester Luwin to prepare their rooms-- before she remembered that he was dead and that she had yet to appoint another. Clearing her throat, she waved a hand. "Your rooms within the Keep will be ready soon, unless you wish to use the spare rooms adjacent to Lord Lannister's in the Guest House?"

"The Cold Ones will take me before that happens, my lady." Adrian's tone turned colder than the ice used to build The Wall as his gaze burned into Tybalt Lannister. His mother gave him a stern look. 

Markus rushed out out when he heard that men were approaching. Why had his scouts taken so long to report. And the Queen was in the Godswood. He rushed outside still strapping on his armor, with his sword in one hand. Until he saw the flags the strangers carried, northern flags. He slowed down to compose himself, but still kept out his sword, as the past had proven the north was not as faithful as it once was. When he saw Tybalt he scowled. He carefully approached Ellaria. He knew the flag vaguely. But trust was as hard to find as warmth in winter. He did not speak it was not his place to interrupt the Queen as she received guests.

Tybalt leaned back against a post and watched. He didn't like being noticed here, because when he was he only got glares and spit on his boots.

As he watched he noticed Markus scowling at him. He didn't care for the knight. Markus treated him like the rest of the remaining Stark bannermen. And he didn't like the way Markus kept looking at Ellaria. But, it was probably nothing. He was her swornsword. Of course he'd at least have a friendship with her. Hopefully nothing more...

Ellaria rose a brow at Adrian, "Lord Tybalt is an honored guest in Winterfell, Lord Adrian. But if you have no liking for the temporary arrangements I propose, then by all means you may sleep underneath the roof of the Great Hall. It's been mended, but I've heard that there may still be a few cracks, and it is not as sturdy as it once was-- it may fall in if the snow becomes too heavy. And I am afraid that I must remind you that Cold Ones would rather take us all than just you?"

Dismissing him for a moment, she knelt down to their eye-level and smiled warmly.

"There is no need to talk with such formality, or worry; Winter's Keeper wouldn't hurt pups as sweet as you are," she said softly to them, warming their hands in hers. "Sit, pretty girl, and be nice," Ellaria murmured to Winter's Keeper, who gave a soft snort at the frightened faces of the girls.

She glanced Markus' way. "Would you see to it that his men are properly housed and properly fed? Perhaps, if Adrian feels so strongly, the girls may use Sansa and Arya's rooms until they return; I will have their baths drawn myself. My lord and lady, you are free to use the springs just on the other side of the Guest House to bathe."

Tybalt smiled as Ellaria comforted the young girls. She was so gentle but fierce when needed. She was amazing in herself.

He stood dutifully for her to return, after all, where else would he rather be besides by her?

As Markus gave Ellaria a respectful nod-- and Tybalt one last grimace --he stepped forward and began to conduct the men as they began to unload the carriages. Ellaria called on a servant to inform the kitchen staff that they had guests, and to prepare a small but hot meal as nothing was leftover from supper; as she directed the small family inside, Ellaria glanced at Tybalt.

"Come along, my lord-- I did not see you in the Hall during supper, and one cannot be avoided or avoid for long."

The blonde haired man gave a nod and a grin and followed her into the Great Hall, "Of course, Your Grace. I'm sure the other Lords will be thrilled to have me."

Ellaria stepped into the warm Hall after the family, who was greeted with hearty cheers from the Bannermen in residence. They died down as Tybalt was noticed, and Ellaria couldn't help but roll her icy-pewter eyes. She was tired of attempting to appease her hard-won men, who were still reluctant to follow her even after her being crowned. Gathering her voice, she responded loud enough to where she would be overheard.

"They are grown men, and therefore can grow accustomed to your presence. Or not; that is their personal choice. I, however, am Queen In The North, and this is my Court. All souls are welcome lest they are banished from the North by my own hand. My word is law here."

Those last words she directed pointedly to the men who occupied the four long tables that were positioned before the dais. Winter's Keeper gave a fierce bark as Ellaria gave Tybalt a nod, preceding him to the dais.

Tybalt couldn't help but smile as he passed a group of sour looking Umbers as he made his way to the table.

"Don't bother getting up, gents, just here for dinner." He chuckled.

"'A Lannister Always Instigates' should be your House words, Tybalt," Ellaria frowned slightly at him. A few of the Manderly men downcast their eyes as she lifted her skirts to move up the steps to her Throne. She accepted a goblet nearly filled to the brim with honeyed Mead mixed with Brandy as she sat, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"You must not know how many times in the past month a man has asked to take all of his hate for your brethren out on you." Ellaria's lips tightened into a thin line, and she murmured into her goblet, "Nor must you know how many times I nearly let them, just to get them to stop whining like newborn pups..."

Tybalt sat next to her and settled down in the wooden chair, "I'm eternally thankful you didn't, Your Grace. I never cared for beatings, not after the ones I got from Gregor Clegane on one occasion."

"Gregor Clegane-- The Mountain that Rides?" Ellaria gave him a skeptical sideways glance. 

"You must be lying, Tybalt Lannister! The Mountain beats you-- and yet here you sit at my side and draw breath?" Ellaria grinned into her goblet. Liar, she mouthed at him.

Tybalt nods, assuring her its true, "When I was younger, I thought myself good at swordplay. Granted all my opponents went easy on me. Became a bit full of myself. There was this one maid at Casterly Rock, Miranda her name was, that I pined after. Aye she was a beauty with long black hair and teasing green eyes. I saw her in the yard one day and decided to show off for her. I challenged Ser Gregor. He soundly beat me and then proceeded to beat me bloody. My father watched from a balcony and did nothing until I was rendered unconscious. When I awoke, I was the joke of Casterly Rock for a week. My father looked sorely disappointed in me. Cersei laughed her ass off. Tyrion and Jaime tried to cheer me up but couldn't help putting in a few jokes. The next day after that I went to speak with Miranda. I overheard her talking about watching 'the Mountain trounce the lion whelp and teach him a lesson'. I cried that night..."

His eyes go off into the distance before getting another sip of ale and continuing, "But then the next day I was able to slip some valuables into her pockets and she left the Rock a few days later with only a left hand. She was a bitch anyway."

He shakes his head and then moves in on his bread.

It might have been the ale going to her head just then, but Ellaria, softened and angered both by Tybalt's account, found that her heart was going out to him.

"Served the little wench right; any woman would be more than lucky to have you pining after her! If I found out you had willingly half died to impress me, I would at the very least shower you with kisses and praises and silly little giggles until you'd had enough of me!"

This drew a small giggle from Ellaria's own throat as she patted Tybalt's hand. She felt her cheeks flush and thought that maybe she'd had too much ale-- or it was going to her head because she drank it sparingly, as she always did. When the servants brought out a meal for the Shadewoods, she asked for her goblet to be topped off.

"May as well drink my fill; I feel as though no one will be able to drink anymore once we march again."

She stood on her feet then, composing herself. Ellaria raised her goblet and called, "'And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolf, and the wind itself was their song' ....Winter has come, my lords, and the snows will fall until all of our enemies are crushed under of the might of the howling wolves!"

Tybalt silently raises his glass but his eyes hide a bit of loyalty still to his family. Not for its members but more for its name.

Ellaria glanced at Tybalt as she set her goblet down with a heavy sigh. As a steaming plate of food was set in front of him, something one could only describe as dark swept rapidly across her flushed face and dimmed the tipsy smile on her lips. With her mind slightly hazed and the reign on her tongue loosened, the words spilled from her mouth in a rather abruptly bitter tone,

"You must eat something, my lord-- lest the guest right be completely revoked and my men slaughter you where you sit."

Without waiting for a response, Ellaria turned and left the Great Hall.

Adrian was glad to have received a place on the dias with Ellaria. His mother sat a seat away, and between them, his sisters. Adreya and Adryna discussed which Bannerman they knew the most about, but he didn't miss how Adryna stole glances at Tybalt Lannister. His mother looked the part of the proud Lady; he couldn't blame her. She was seated next to the Queen in the North, after all.

"Adreya," his youngest sister looked up at him with eyes that matched his own, only hers were like snow grey snow. "Are you not hungry? I apologize for letting you stay in the carriage as long as you did..." The little star shook her head, dark hair swaying.

"No, Brother. I was just thinking how big this place is. I'd never been here before..." She was right; the girls had never had the pleasure to visit Winterfell in the past years. He blamed the wars. Adrian put down his fork, wiped his mouth, and kissed her hair.

"No, little one. The Wolf's place is in the Godswood, close to the Seven, always hunting, always howling. A Star of the Night's place is in the sky, shining with the moon. You're too young to have seen the castle, so tomorrow, I shall give you and your sister a tour. Perhaps the Queen would like to--" Adrian had made himself loud enough to be hear by Ellaria, only to see her give a dirty look to Tybalt Lanister before descending the dais and leaving the hall.

 Adrian frowned, but he stood with respect, as did the Bannermen when the Queen left.

"What have you done now, young Lion?" Lady Felice asked Tybalt. The woman was old, but old enough to tell when a women had been bothered with. "Just a minute ago, she's happy as a babe, and now look at her, as sour as the fruit of a weirwood..." Adrian sighed, and gave his sisters a kiss on each dark head.

"Pardon me, Lady-Mother." With that, Adrian descended the dais, and left the hall after Ellaria. He was surprised at how well he remembered the layout of these halls from his childhood. Adrian found Ellaria standing by an open window.

 "Your Grace?" he said to her. "What troubles you?"

Tybalt turned a bit to Lady Felice and gave her an apologetic look, "I wish I knew dear Lady. I wish I knew..."

 He turned to the food. It all looked delicious yes. But she had talked of guest right. He could only picture what could have happened at the Red Wedding. The treachery, the death. How men went in seeking food and drink and lost their lives instead. It made him sick. It made him angry. And his heart churned with sympathy for Ellaria. He closed his eyes and quickly set out to find her.

Lady Felice nodded, and turned to her daughters. "Come girls, we should retire for the night. Our Queen has left, so must we." The girls nodded silently, and put down their forks befire standing up. They followed their mother from the Great Hall of Winterfell and into the now royal apartments.

"The Princesses Sansa and Arya have not seen these rooms in many days. We shall await the Queen in her study, until she bids us enter. Now, listen carefully. Young Tybalt Lannister is the Queen's prisoner, be he Honored Guest or no."

"And all Lannisters are evil, right mother?" Adryna asked. Lady Felice sighed.

 "Most are, save the Laughing Lion..."

* * *

**Winterfell, Stables**

Markus disappeared after he was sure the Queen was safe amongst friends, he had no way to keep up with the Lannister man and his charm, he only wished the Queen was wise enough to see through his fake smile. He needed to find why his scouts had not reported in, he had some diea but would have to investigate. Tybalt brought with him Ill luck the queen should know better than to let him run free, and worse, to dine with the Umbers. Maybe he would be dead before the night was over. Or else she might lose a few more Bannermen.

He found one of his men tying up some horses. The man nooded greetings. "Fyrs todays scouts did not report in today what is going on?"

Fyrs responded slowly choosing his words. "They... Left Ser."

Markus was worried this would happen. Many left when Robb died, of the few who were not killed. Many more would not serve a queen, but those were the Bannermen. Of the men themselves some had deserted, and more would desert daily the North had lost its resolve. "Anything to report?"

"We caught a bird carrying an indecipherable message." The guard held out a piece of paper, Markus looked at is for several moments then made a run for hall. He shouted hoping his voice carried. Maybe the Lannister would prove useful tonight, maybe he would step infront of an Umber blade. "Fyrs, I will need at least fifty men in the hall as soon as possible."

* * *

**The Great Keep**

Ellaria had stalked out of her own Great Hall without knowing where she was going-- just the she had to leave as quickly as the gods would allow, mainly because she just might save her Bannermen the trouble of killing Tybalt Lannister. Of course, this was through no fault of his own, and she had surely drunken faster and much more than she'd originally thought, because she would swear the Old and the New that Tybalt's face had morphed into the insensitivity that was Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. It was the man whom she had been told took the last of the life from her twin brother as well as the entirety of her mother's, who had no doubt orchestrated the entire massacre at Twins.

Ellaria had nearly lost control and stabbed him in the throat with her dinner knife as she stared into those two pale, moon-white eyes for those few and brief moments, before Tybalt's face reappeared. However, she wished she hadn't said those words to him-- those words that had come from that deep and dark place-- given life the night of of the Red Wedding --that she hadn't even let Markus see. Ellaria had said them, out loud for a reason yet unknown to even herself, and could not take them back. She had half a mind to turn around and go back to the Hall and apologize to Tybalt. The young woman had taken the long way and gone outside into the frigid air without a cloak, more than glad to fill the wind snatch at the dark mask over her countenance. By the time that Ellaria had shoved in the doors to the Great Keep as she reached the top of the stone steps and was pacing at one end of the Great Keep, she had reasoned with herself that she was already too far away.

As she neared a window, Ellaria pulled her river of hair over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it as she worried her bottom lip, a telltale sign of her current state of sensitivity. Ellaria angrily swiped at the annoying tears that threatened her eyes with a burn-- she was so tired of crying! Everything, in some way or another made her cry because it reminded her of those moments she had with her family, and she had had enough of it-- she was simply tired. The young Queen'd mixed emotions were riled into a storm inside of her as they ran rampant in her mind and throughout her body, making her fidget uncomfortably. Ellaria jumped at the sound of a wolf's howl as it pierced the dark, cold night air, and half wished it was who she wanted to be as she leaned out of the window.

But it was Adrian Shadewood's voice that called her attention to order. Gasping at the sound, Ellaria whirled to face him.

"It is... nothing, Adrian. Nothing troubles me," she blatantly lied, turning slowly back towards the window, unwanted to be coaxed or consoled for her outburst. Her jawline tightened, an a muscled ticked underneath the surface of her pale skin.

"It was merely.... something I imagined..." Ellaria shook her head once, her tone more frustrated than saddened.

At this, Adrian couldn't help but smile. His Northern eyes watched the Queen's face. She was beautiful, yes, but then and there, she looked at frightened as a child. The young Lord of Shadow moved up next to the window.

"Poor little pup," he said to her. "Pardon me for saying so, but... in the years I've seen you, then and now.... You never could lie to me." His deep voice was soft, and reassuring. He hadn't seen his childhood friend in years, and now that they were both of age, it was time to act like adults. Even if they were both a little young to lead a Great House of their own.

"For years, I've wondered about you. Granted, we spoke time and time again, but that was only when your lord-father had been present. And even then, we rarely spoke. I must apologize. I meant not to leave you alone after the betrayal at the Twins. I had to secure the Night's stronghold, send word to Shadow Tower and her Lord-Commander.... I'm sorry I did not come sooner-- that I did not lend you my aid when you needed it most. Will you forgive me, little pup?" Adrian's voice had gone soft, and he started thinking back to when he, Robb, Jon, and Ellaria were children. Yes, it was only a few years ago, but so much had changed...

"Adrian, there's enough of that going around. I understand that you could not be there-- not every single man in the North could be at Riverrun that night even when he wished he was, and everyone knows it. All that matters is that I have you support now."

Ellaria wrinkled her nose at Adrian in order to lighten the mood, as though they were indeed still children and she was teasing him. "And of course I could lie to you when we were younger-- I did it all of the time! It was you who could never lie to me, as I recall," she huffed, slowly reverting back to herself as she fell into an easy conversation with him.

He had grown handsome, Ellaria's unnatural-born brother who fell from the Northern Star itself. His eyes were similar to hers, pale ice blue and frame by alabaster skin and hair that was as black as the Godswood in the middle of a cold winter's night. The matching black stubble blanketing the lower half of his face and chin reminded her a bit of a wolf, with its dark coat growing in for the winter. It defined him more, on a certain level, and she nodded appreciatively.

She could remember a few years back, when she and her father had come upon him with Robb and Jon; the three of them, having grown taller and wider, decided to see just who was more of a man-- by judging the hairs on his face. Adrian's mistake was asking Ellaria to be their jury. When it came time for her to judge him, the young woman had smoothly pulled out the only hair she had seen on his face, and ended up being chased by all three boys around the Courtyard and the Kennels for the next hour or so. It had grown back, however, and with an abundant vengeance. A small smile tugged at her lips then.

Evading his claim that she was lying to him, Ellaria said, "I see you've finally won that contest you started with Robb and Jon those years ago, when you had come to visit and the three of you had just started to become men. But if I felt so inclined for you to lose a second time, I'd have to pull out all of that hair on your face, and then where would you be, hm?"

Tybalt walked swiftly down the corridors, looking frantically for Ellaria. For some reason he felt her rage was somewhat his fault. Though he was used to being treated like that by the northmen, Ellaria had never spoken to him like that. He could still remember her eyes filled with rage. A fire burning in them. Her scowl could have held a whole army at bay. And guilt had built up in him. 

As he walked down the cold corridors he ran into a group of soldiers heading for the dining hall. Raising an eyebrow he asked, "Where's the fire gents?"

* * *

**The Red Keep, King's Landing - Cersei Lannister's Private Quarters**

Cersei Lannister was more than happy to know that Robb Stark was dead. Although it has only been a month since the incident known as the Red Wedding reached King's Landing, the Queen Dowager was still celebrating that fact that the boy cold no longer be an irritating thorn in her side. She mused quietly to herself as her little golden-haired Tommen-- who looked just like his father --sat within arm's reach, reading aloud to her of Aegon and his Dragons. Cersei smiled genuinely whenever he glanced up at her, and her hands reached for a goblet of wine she had poured for herself that sat nearly empty on a small table. She was rather glad that Joffery's attentions were not her concern for the moment, and aimed toward incessantly torturing the so-called 'Princess' Sansa Stark, now a Ward of the Crown.

At that moment, Tyrion walked in, a glass of wine in his hand and humming a tune. As he walked in he gave a little bow, "Sister, nephew. How are we this evening?"

* * *

**Winterfell**

Adrian smiled, and laughed. He outright laughed at the Queen. "Forgive me, but who was it that incited a rebellion that involved facial hair?" Adrian remembered that time well-- his beard had grown within a month and some days, much to Lord Eddard's amusement. Adrian had been only childishly angry with Ellaria for pulling his first sign of manhood. Shaking his head, Adrian looked out the window.

There was a pain in his eyes; not new-found, only hidden from everyone else. Only Mason knew how much Robb's death and Jon's disappearance had pained him almost as greatly as Ellaria. Perhaps that was why he protected his sisters so: because they were just like Ellaria. Adrian felt fiercely ashamed of the tears at brimmed his eyes at the thoughts of his lost brothers and adoptive mother.

"I remember those days all too well. So much so that it pains me... They were my brothers...." Adrian whispered.

* * *

**Past The Wall**

Jon Snow trudged through his namesake, hoping to keep warm. He was being led across white hills, further and further away from once he knew to be his home on the Wall, and farther and farther into the Wilds beyond...

* * *

**The Red Keep of King's Landing, Cersei's Private Quarters**

Cersei's full, pouting lips were pulled down as a scowl spread across her face. As her second younger brother entered her private chambers, she rolled her eyes and sat up on her bed as Tommen gave his little uncle a fool's grin.

"Come to spoil my good mood as always, little Imp?" Cersei inquired, drawing her youngest child closer to her body as she stared down her nose at Tyrion

"What do you want, Tyrion?"

Tyrion gave a look at her and sipped his wine. It was a pleasant Dornish Red and went down smooth. He let the taste linger on his tongue before clearing his throat, "What do I want? Well for starters, we still need to discuss the fact that our dear brother, Tybalt, is still a prisoner in Winterfell even though you already claimed the war is over." 

The former Queen's irritation had already spiked the moment her youngest brother reared his ugly head-- she wanted him gone on sight. The fact that he took his sweet time explaining his presence in her chambers merely added to her growing annoyance. When Tyrion mentioned Tybalt, however, Cersei's cat-green eyes narrowed as though he had slighted her—which he had, of course, or it was how she had taken his satiric inquiry.

"Oh, the war is far from over," Cersei said darkly as she stroked Tommen's hair. "Joffrey merely said so in order to appease the hording masses—a foolish thing, considering the fact that the damned Starks are everywhere!"

Cersei scoffed before shooing Tommen off of the bed; she called in a maid to take him back to his own chambers. She chose to ignore the child's protests and moved to the small table laden with food and drinks just a few feet from away. Glorious as ever in red, her grown fit her body shape well even with the elegant metalwork that accompanied it. She glided about, musing with a refilled goblet in her palm.

"Frankly, I'm surprised that little girl hasn't sent us Tybalt's head already—wouldn't be such a shame with you in his place, though. Am I the only one of our father's children who hasn't been lured by a Stark bitch?"

* * *

**Winterfell, The Great Keep**

"Ser Markus has ordered fifty men to attend the Queen and others in the Great Hall," one man said as another rudely shouldered Tybalt.

"Not that it's any of your concern, Lannister snake!"

"Aye, you're lucky the She-Wolf let you out of your cage after all; too bad for us that she takes a liking to her pets!" 

They left Tybalt there in the corridor and headed towards the Great Hall, ultimately uncaring for the young Queen's supposedly 'Honored Guest'.

Softening further, Ellaria gave her old friend a sideways glance and shook her head as the wind picked up her hair. A heavy sigh lifted her chest as she thought to herself,

The Gods assembled and devised pain as a way to bring man together. How ironic in its cruelty.

She reached and lifted the tear from Adrian's cheek with a finger. "Do not worry, Brother Star," she said, calling him by the childhood name the Stark siblings had given him. "I will see to it that all will be well in the North, come next we--"

Just then, Ellaria cut herself off and shuddered as an ominous feeling crawled up the back of her spine, and she glanced out into the Courtyard. She had missed the men rushing by with her face turned away towards Adrian, and the wind had drowned Markus' shouts down as he had rushed for the Hall.

"I think... that something is wrong, Adrian. " Even though she saw nothing out of the ordinary, Ellaria frowned darkly and her eyes narrowed sharply as she stared out into the night through the window. She partially leaning out of the window to get a better look, and saw a familiar figure in grey and red. 

"Tybalt?" she called out.

Tybalt looked up, his green eyes catching the starlight like cat's eyes. He yelled up to her, "Your Grace! There seems to be some commotion in the Great Hall!"

Adrian cut his eyes to the Lannister. At the moment, he wanted to hug Ellaria; he felt like he had another sister, one that he had lost long ago.

"What-" Adrian listened to the commotion, confused. Glacing at Ellaria, Adrian's eyes went wide as he gently but firmly pulled her back from the window. "My Lord of Lannister, are the men rioting?!" he called out to him. Normally, he wouldn't talk to someone like Tybalt, or at least, not someone that had the ill-luck to bear the Lannister name. "Where are my mother and sisters!?"

"You suggest they sleep in the carriage?" Lady Felice took on a mother's glare and a sharp tone that rivaled her son's. Adrian glanced at Ellaria.

"I beg your pardon, Lady-Mother. I only meant that I would not have a Lannister so close to the Night's jewels." He adored his sisters, and Adrian despised the Lannisters and their pride.

His father he called Tywin the Tyrant for his part in the Sack of King's Landing. And his father's banishment from Court. Adrian took a deep breath, and spotted the direwolf that had appeared. The last he has seen was Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf. The memory made him sad; he had been friends with the late King in The North, and regretted not being present at the Red Wedding. Adreya and Adryna both gasped, dashing behind their elder brother.

His mother would have told them how unladylike it was if it weren't so late.

"Apologies, Your Grace. I know the hour is late, but I was hard pressed to come to your aid. I know not how far away the Lannister host is; I presumed to travel after I sent you a message by raven. But it would be too cold, and I thought, 'why send one man, when I can go myself?' So here we are."

"Yes, dear, a warm meal and a hot bath does sound inviting. Girls?" Adryna was just as old as Sansa Stark, and Adreya as old as Arya when Lord Eddard was executed by Ilyn Payne. The girls came forward and bowed to their new Queen.

"Your Grace," they said. "We thank you for your hospitality." Adryna said with a soft smile.

Tybalt watched from the shadows as Lord Shadewood spoke harshly to him. He rolled his eyes. He was used to this kind of treatment by the northmen. But the two little girls made him smile. He had a soft spot for children.

Markus finally found Ellaria, with Tybalt nearb. Good his life would be saved by that. It would not do well as much as he wants the Lannister man dead to have the Lannisters come marching north to avenge their family. Ellaria was safe away from the hall so he approached normally careful not to alarm her.

"Your grace I bring grevious news." Markus lowered his head, what he was going to say would be a blow to the north, and he didn't know how to word it. Maybe he should have waited for them to kill Tybalt it would make this easier, and their would be proof.

Tybalt narrows his eyes at Markus. The knight rarely meant good news for anyone.

Adrian looked up as Markus approached. He needed to ensure the safety of his mother and sisters; he was sure they were safely tucked away in Ellaria's quarters but still.

"Markus. I've not seen you in at least three years..." he commented. "What news do you bring?" he asked the knight politely.

Ellaria had to blink several times, so as not to be too distracted by the bolts of green that formed Tybalt's eyes. Patrially hypnotized, she repeated,

"Ah, a commotion?"

A slightly confused frowned knit the young queen's red brow. She opened her mouth no doubt to ask Tybalt if he knew just what was going on when Adrian pulled her away from the window. When he asked him if the men were rioting, Ellaria started and blinked as the sounds of shouting men reached her ears at last. She half turned towards the muffled, echoing sound as her hand clutched the sleeve of Adrian's tunic tightly. Her first thought was to ask why the Bannermen would be rioting against her in the first place—after all, these men were loyal until death. Then Ellaria thought that it was the main reason that they would riot, because they were loyal: to her older twin brother, Robb. Her gut lurched as she began to contemplate the notion even though she tried not to lose faith in the men so quickly. Once Adrian had flung his question at Tybalt in quick succession, Ellaria reassured him as best she could. 

"They are safe, Adrian; come, and we will see for ourselves--"

A flash of silver-grey darted into the room and came straight towards her. "Thank the gods for my Keeper," Ellaria murmured to herself as the direwolf nuzzled her. "Go and find Adrian's Stars—keep them safe for him, aye?"

Winter's Keeper was gone just as quickly as she had appeared, and just before her swornsword Ser Markus to appear with a few guardsmen. The look on his face was warning enough that Ellaria wouldn't like what she was about to hear. However, she decided that now was not the time to worry and fret like she would if Robb were still here; she needed to show the North that she could lead as well as her brother, and without even raising her sword.

"Take you time and tell me was has happened, Ser Markus," Ellaria said firmly as she began to move towards the now open door, the indecipherable shouts that began to ring in her ears hastening her steps.

"It is the Umber's your highness. The Bolton's are threatening them, threatening to kill Greatjon if they did not kill you, and the Lannister did not help, I believe he was the final grievance." Markus replied hurriedly, he hoped the men he had sent to apprehend Hother were successful. "We must hurry to deal with this threat."

"Damn," said Adrian. Mason had always ranted about the Boltons whenever he was drunk enough. Shaking his head, he gently patted Ellaria's hand.

"I thank Your Grace for seeing to the safety of my Stars," he gave Ellaria a gentle smile. "I suppose my steward’s House is close to a fury that rivals the Baratheons'..." With a sheepish nod, Adrian stepped away from his Queen. But he didn't miss the way she had grabbed onto his shirt. "Ser Markus, I would your assistance..."

Adrian nodded to Ellaria once again, and turned down the hallway, toward the Great Hall of Winterfell. The shouting of men could be heard, and he was sure that if one sword was drawn, the cold stone walls would mirror those of the Red Keep.

Spotting an Umber, but not Mason, Adrian touched the man's arm. "What was the grievance?" Adrina asked him.

"One more slight..." the man's face was red with anger. "One more slight on our name, and I'll have his head!" Other men echoed the call.

* * *

**Cersei's Private Quarters**

Tyrion shrugged, "First of all, it was our loving father who sent him to treat with Robb Stark when my dearest nephew Joffery lost his sense and called for Ned Stark's head. You are just as equal for our brother's imprisonment as you watched as Ilyn Payne let the sword drop. Now, I feel it is my job to get him out of the mess our dear King started." 

His eyes shot into her like arrows, blame coming off in waves as he spoke. Without another word, he sat down and took a heavy swig of wine. His eyebrows raised in a condescending quirk.

Cersei rolled her eyes at Tyrion and wandered over to her balcony.

"Though Ned Stark was a fool and stuck his nose where he had no business sticking it, his execution was all Joffrey's doing, not mine, Tyrion. I at least tried to intervene, to warn him against it-- but you know how my boy is; there is always someone he must antagonize-- he just decided to antagonize an entire fucking region this time 'round," Cersei said, her tone slightly bitter as she stared out into the capital city of King's Landing.

"And you know Tybalt has a way with his words; he's probably already got that little whore bowing to him as we speak. She's as foolish as the rest of them, too. Have you heard what she's calling herself? 'The She-Wolf'," Cersei shook her head and turned towards her brother.

* * *

**Winterfel**

Ellaria's blood froze in her veins as the name 'Bolton' echoed mercilessly in her ears. That poisonous name chilled her to the bone, and made her so angry that she was murderous-- yet again. Her eyes of steel and ice, were dead cold as she glared at Markus without relief. 

"Do not say that name in my presence again," Ellaria growled at Markus deep and low, her voice menacing. "House Bolton is dead to me, and House Frey with it."

She turned back to face the way she was going, heading straight for the Great Hall through the long gallery that connected it to the Great Keep.

"Lord Tybalt hasn't a goddamned thing to do with any of this, so the sooner you all cease to fret over him like children, the better. And as for Hother Whoresbane-- as soon as he is found, bring him to me; I would have words with him. Adrian," she called after his figure as she followed him, " see to your family-- as soon as they are secure, my direwolf will come back to me. Have you my bow, Markus? I feel the need to hunt a few wolves." 

Murmuring to herself, Ellaria said under her breathe, "The Bannermen of House Stark will remember that I am sole ruler here."

* * *

 **Cersei's Private Quarters**  

Tyrion rolled his eyes, "If he truly had her bowing down to him she wouldn't be calling herself 'The She Wolf', would she? Honestly, you could be intelligent if you weren't so damn daft. In any case, another thing is, he has failed to report back for several months, even before the Red Wedding. For all we know he might be like Jaime now. Missing limbs included."

Cersei decided to ignore Tyrion's quips-- she knew he was making up for what he was lacking in certain areas, so she let it go; just this once. She contemplated his words, mulling them over in her mind until something started to piece together.

"He rode to Winterfell in order to negotiate with the Stark boy for Jamie's release, did he not? He must have been ambushed, then, because he wasn't riding alone-- but of course, got himself captured..."

Cersei mused silently for a moment longer before she continued, "Tybalt was a prisoner for all of those months-- but why was no message sent back with a rider, unless..." 

One of her fine golden brows twitched uncontrollably, and her radiant face narrowed as her lips tightened. In an assured, overtly confident voice, she concluded, "She would not be so foolish as to kill him-- she could not possibly be so stupid as to bring the entire force of our House and allies down on her and the North. We are missing something, Tyrion, and you need to find out what it is."

The dwarf chuckled, "I need to do it? ME? Dear sister, you need to pull your weight around here. I've been doing all I can for this family while you have drug it's name through the mud. If I'm going to do anything with Tybalt, you will be assisting."

"I have pulled my weight around for long enough," Cersei snapped at him, setting the goblet down hard enough to slosh the wine around. "And who are you to judge me, Tyrion, when you're the one who enjoys whoring yourself about as though the entire continent were your personal brothel?" 

Cersei snorted, rather unladylike, and moved towards the door. Although he was irritating to the bone and she prayed often enough that her youngest brother would simply die, Cersei knew Tyrion had a point. He obviously lacked the resources that were required in order to end this trivial matter that was the North—much less rescue their brother Tybalt --unless he had her backing. With that thought in mind, she begrudgingly added,

"Fine, Tyrion—we will find Tybalt…together." Her lips curled with repugnance for moment before she caught herself. However, another thought occurred to Cersei, and she turned back to glance at her malformed dwarf of a younger brother.

"Might I ask how your dear wife has taken to the news? Of her family, I mean? I suppose I should offer my condolences—it was a necessary measure, however. Now, if only Ellaria Stark hadn't gotten away, we could've put all of this foolishness behind us and prepared for Joffrey and Margaery's wedding as we should have." 

Tyrion shook his head at his sister. "Poor, poor deluded Cersei. I met Ellaria Stark. Yes she has the beauty and grace of my beloved wife," he rolled his eyes at the term, "but she also possess the fierceness Arya had. We cannot act like she isn't a threat. The North remembers what the Freys, Boltons, and our family has done to them. If you ask me, if we really want the foolishness to end we should send an envoy with tokens of good faith for negotiating." 

Cersei blinked at Tyrion for a moment as his words registered before she gave him a small smile; the look in her and her tone of voice were as though she were speaking to her little Tommen when she said,

"Tyrion, what a foolish thing to say! I think you might have caught something from one of your whores-- especially that one you keep in your rooms --because I must say that you have gone daft."

Cersei tutted at him with a heavy sigh. "Send an envoy if you wish, Tyrion, it makes no difference to me. But the only tokens sent in my regards will my greatest faith-- that she will inevitably die as her brother and father did: taken without mercy and pity. 

Dismissing him from her mind, the Queen Dowager of the Seven Kingdoms left the room.

* * *

  **Winterfell**

Markus stood unmoving. The bow was in the Queen's chambers. "My lady I do not think it wise for me to leave you unguarded." 

He shoot a menacing look at the Lannister, but held his tongue his Queen had unfortunately grown fond of the cat.

Adrian nodded to his Queen, and stared at her when her eyes, and her voice turned to ice. Markus was very reluctant to leave Ellaria's side, which was understandable.

"You have my thanks, Your Grace..."

Ellaria gave Markus a slightly narrow-eyed stare for a few moments—there was no complaint she could muster save that they were prolonging the Umber situation –even when she caught that hateful look Markus stole towards Tybalt. She rolled her eyes heavenward and felt no need to ask him again. Instead, she turned towards one of his men.

"Fetch me my bow, Ser, and quickly."

"Majesty," the man bobbed into a bow before turning back the way they had come.

Ellaria prayed he would indeed hurry—she didn't think she could keep her brave face on for too much longer. She let her heartfelt anger with the betrayal of Roose Bolton, his men, and those damned Freys— and all because her brother could not keep his hands from Jeyne Westerling! Ellaria let out a soft curse under her breath, attempting to be unbothered by the increase in shouting from the Great Hall.

"Markus, how many men do we have?" she asked suddenly.

"Directly loyal to us? About five thousand since the wedding." Markus answered, that was not nearly enough without the support of the Bannermen who made up more than eighty percent of their total strength, He hoped Ellaria would see that. The only men left in the north, were the mountain men, the Karstarks who had left Robb, and White Harbor men.


	2. Episode Two: The Umber Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now...
> 
> Ellaria Stark has been struggling to muster the support she requires for another campaign into the Westerlands from the moment she was crowned as Queen in the North. The Bannermen have all but deserted her under guise of better alliances provided mainly by House Lannister, and its own allies south of the Neck. The Lannisters and the Starks have been going for each other's throats since King Joffrey I Baratheon heralded the unlawful execution of Lord Eddard Stark. Adding fuel to a fire that rivals that of Aegon's Dragons is the fact that Tybalt Lannister-- the Heir of Casterly Rock and second son of Tywin Lannister-- has been a prisoner of war since Robb reigned in the North. For two people who are supposed to be rivals until the bitter end, Ellaria and Tybalt seemed to have taken a liking to each other, which only causes further dissension-- in the North, that is.
> 
>  
> 
> The results of the Red Wedding, in which House Bolton and House Frey betrayed the Starks and, now turncoats, have sided with the Lannisters, takes its toll on Ellaria's reign very early on. Her refusal to send Tybalt Lannister's head back to King's Landing without his body and her decision to release him from his cell in the dungeons of Winterfell merely spurs the anger of the Bannermen on as they fight to wrestle back the lands that were once theirs alone. The loyalty of the revered Northern Houses has been called into question now that the young Queen's allies are few and far between.
> 
> House Umber-- one of the only northern Houses that have remained loyal to House Stark --has recently been threatened with the execution of its infamous son, Greatjon Umber-- in the event that Ellaria has not been murdered sooner rather than later.....

**Winterfell, the Gallery Walk**

"Thrice Damned!"

Ellaria Stark cursed aloud and let her shoulders sag as her swornsword, Ser Markus Reullius, gave her news that was somehow even worse than the Umber's imminent rebellion. They stood together, flanked by guardsmen and the Lord Tybalt Lannister, in the gallery walk that connected the Great Keep of Winterfell to its Great Hall.

"Five thousand will do me good. Tywin Lannister will crush us a hundred times over!"

Ellaria raked her nails through her stunning red hair as frustration and aggravation took its toll on her way of thinking. Soon enough, a wave of utter helplessness settled over her, and she pulled all of her hair over her right shoulder as she attempted to think about their next move. The Umbers were revolting as they stood there now, idle. With Roose Bolton at the helm of this coup, she and her allies may very well be put to the sword. There was nothing Ellaria could think to do. Only the minor Houses of the North were free to do as they pleased, and Ellaria felt as though she might possibly understand if they chose either side of the war. The North was beginning to fail her-- or rather already had from what she could tell. The fact that her Bannermen were deserting her before she was even given a chance to prove herself said as much. She was sure she herself had had something to do with it, though-- and the living proof was standing just feet away from her...

What Tybalt had offered her the day of his release from prison came back to her in a rush, and Ellaria forced herself to tune out the pounding that was beginning to rattle the oak and iron doors that lead into the Great Hall. She fought the blood that rushed into her face-- she was little more than utterly chagrined; she attempted to keep the desperation from her voice and the pleading from her ice-blue eyes as she ignored every other man and spoke directly to him.

"My lord Lannister, does the proposal you rendered me that day still stand?"

The blonde man moved his keen green eyes to hers, honesty shining in them for once in his life.

"Aye, Your Grace. My offer still stands."

"We do not need help from a Lannister My Lady." Markus replied, the Lannisters only offered poisoned fruit. Even if Tybalt was speaking true that meant nothing for the honour of the rest of his family. Markus racked his mind trying to think of away to gain more troops. But Robb had one every battle he fought and lost the war, maybe they needed to think beyond men and swords. The strength of the Lannisters lied in their leader.

Ellaria rose a fine red brow at Markus as he spoke, mildly surprised.

"You yourself just said that we only have five thousand men, my friend. Adrian has brought us what he could spare, and though I am thankful that he has the effort, it is clearly not enough. The North has already been forced to turn towards outsiders. Are we not allowed to?"

She turned back to Tybalt. "There is nothing I can offer in return for your services to the North, Tybalt, but I will do ball that is within my power to grant any boon I can. Once we deal with the Umbers, we may discuss this further in the morning, if we may."

Tybalt bowed his head to her, "Of course, Your Grace. I'll write up some papers for negotiations tonight while you deal with this. Sleep well, my Queen."

He gave a rather cocky but endearing smirk before gracefully taking her hand in his and lowering his lips to the back of it. Her skin was soft under his lips as he brushed them gently down before ending at her knuckles.

He offered her another smile before walking off towards his quarters.

Ellaria was slightly taken by surprise as Tybalt took her hand-- and even more so when he kissed it. Her cheeks flushed as a sensation unfamiliar to her raced underneath the surface of her skin and branched throughout her body.

"M-my lord," she stammered, her eyes following him as he walked away. Markus cleared his throat gruffly, and she whirled around to cool her face with her hands and steady the pounding in her breast.

"Majesty, your bow and arrows!"

Ellaria turned with an expression of exasperation-- even with her cheeks still burning. The guardsman handed her the infamous Weirwood longbow she had named Hailstorm along with it a fur quiver of matching arrows with blood red tails.

"Come, Markus- time to deal with the Umbers," Ellaria said to her swornsword, and she stalked towards the riotous noise that came from the Great Hall.

"Open the doors," she ordered the men posted there, who had their shoulders to it. They glanced at her as though she were insane-- which turned into wary when Ellaria pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it into her bow.

"As you wish, Highness..."

As they latched onto the ironwood handles on the great doors and pulled, she aimed an arrow for the first man she could see.

Adrian whirled around when the doors opened to see Ellaria Stark ready to loose an arrow at the closest man: an Umber. The Lord of Shadow quickly moved to her side.

"Your Grace, I beg you not to fire," he told his old friend. Pushing the man away, Adrian came to stand before his Queen. "Perhaps simply bannishing the Boltons would grant you the favor of the Bannerman against them. Please," he said, spotting Mason crossing the room.

"Your Grace..." His voice was deep and he bowed low to Ellaria.

"My steward... Mason Umber." Adrian was hopeful that the Queen would see reason; that she wouldn't put an arrow in someone's heart, or at least not an Umber heart.... "The Boltons have insulted us in their appearance, Your Grace. Should they not be subjected to the same grief we were? I mean not to slaughter those present; only to hold them captive here..."

* * *

**Outside the gates of Yunkai...**

The sun blazed down and heated the already dried and cracked earth beneath. At least, with the sea this close, the khalasar wasn't in as bad a condition as it had been before they camped at Qarth.

"No..." a sweet voice sounded in the morning air. "This is what must be done..."

"Khaleesi?" a deep voice rumbled, and grey eyes turned toward the voice.

A young woman dressed in a lily-white silk dress sat amidst pillows and blankets with cushions inside her tent to shield her moon-like skin from the sun. Even though she had already been tanned, her platinum hair was still luminescent. And her lilac eyes were full of promises to come. She was only 15, already a widow with no child to carry on its father's name, and no home.

She was the exiled Princess Daenerys Targaryen, also titled Daenerys Stormborn, The Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, and Mother of Dragons. Three, to be exact: Rhaegal, Drogon, and Viserion, all named after the men whose lives had been ended too soon or too late during her reign.

Daenerys was willing to do almost anything to regain the homeland that she was so the sole heir to: The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"I must agree your grace, the Umber's are being forced into service with the Lannister's. If we could free Great Jon we would once again have their swords, but if you do this they will remember." Markus implored his queen they could not afford to lose another potential house even if they were currently their enemies. The man who the arrow was trained at stood deathly still, most likely praying to the northern gods.

Ellaria's expression was nearly unreadable as their words sank into her. She stood still as she stared into the Umber's eyes of grey and green, with her arrow still aimed for his heart. He was severely lucky; her first instinct had been to shoot on sight-- a consequence of the volatile emotions running through her-- and ask question only after the rest of them had been taught their lesson. But then, maybe she was the one who need to be taught a lesson: not all would willingly turn their back on their liege lord-- or lady --for trivial prices.

Markus and Adrian were right, of course; if she had killed him before she cold think, she would've surely started a civil war, which wouldn't do well seeing as the first one had yet to end. More than anything, Ellaria wanted someone-- mainly Roose Bolton himself-- to pay for the death of her mother and brother, and Joffrey Baratheon to pay for the death of her father. At certain times, nothing mattered to the young woman but revenge, and to often turned the soft heart others knew she had into something twisted and malformed; her countenance would darken, much like it had during supper.

The strained muscles in her arms slowly began to relax, but Ellaria only lowered the bow a fraction. After a few moments, she murmured,

"Surely you were taught better than to provoke a wolf in her own den? Lower your weapons, and I will lower mine; perhaps we may speak as civilized people then?"

* * *

**Dragonstone**

The letter that had arrived but a few weeks ago now lay in Stannis' hands and he read over the content again and again. The letter was from the Night's Watch, it was their unanswered plea for help against whatever the frozen Wastelands of the North were throwing at them. But it would not be ignored any longer, and neither would Stannis. The rest of the Seven Kingdoms had now had their turn to laugh at him, but he was far from finished with them. His defeat at Blackwater Bay was one that had left him depleted of his force and made him the laughing stock of the era. But they were wrong if they thought that he would step down now. He and he alone was the true King to the throne, he was the only person who had the right to sit on the Iron Throne. And with the help of Melisandre, he would have his vengeance and his conquest would start in the North.

Stannis folded the letter in half and placed it in his pocket before lifting himself from his seat and making his way past the still and cold halls of Dragonstone, the small, remote and pathetic island that Robert had left him with. But soon he would no longer have to confine himself to Dragonstone, he would be gathering his army and prepare to take the Kingdoms by storm. He wondered outside of the halls, the wind was strong and the waves were wild. Stannis' fleet was being loaded with supplies that were being transported by various merchants in preparation for their travel North. He saw the sigils of Houses Emmon, Florent, Meadows, Seaworth, Wylde, Morrigen, House Farring and House Velaryon flying proudly beneath the crowned Baratheon stag accompanied by R'hllor's flaming heart on a gold background as he walked along the docks.

He smiled at the sight of his fleet now heading towards a purpose that would not fail him. He had the Red Priestess with him and she would not let him fall again as he had with at Blackwater's Bay. The thought of the power that he could wield made him smile slightly and he ground his teeth at the thought of the idea of him being able to finally claim his rightful place as King on the throne. There was much work to be done, but the Baratheons were making their move.

"Prepare to board the ships!" An oarsmen cried from one of the many ships and his words were repeated by other sailors and commanders. Stannis boarded his own ship and watched as the majority of his army followed him on board. With Melisandre standing beside him, he watched as the ships pulled away from the harbour and were steered towards the barren wastelands of the North.

* * *

**Silverhill**

Artemis hadn't meant to dwell so long on her farewells to her children, but the guilt she felt for leaving them with no parent at Silverhill was overwhelming. She couldn't explain it to them yet, but this was something she had to do. Only a few days ago she had received a raven from Greywater Watch, reporting of her father's worsening condition. It was too soon to be honest, there had been so much that Artemis had wanted to explain to him, too much that she had left unexplained and she knew it was her duty to set things right between them. The last time he had seen her, she was a girl of 14 leaving the North with the boy who would grow to be her husband. Artemis had not meant to stay away from her home for so long, but with the outbreak of the War, it had been nigh impossible to get to Winterfell. It was no easier now, but now she had reason to go and with the battles having temporarily ceased, there was a small window of opportunity to reach the North.

Eventually, she dragged herself away from her children and mounted her ride, joining her guard in the courtyard. They were garbed in dark, mossy green cloaks to show her allegiance to House Greengood. And hopefully to avoid any unfriendly encounters with the Northerners. Whilst they had not planned to stay at any cities for fear that they would be recognised as Serretts, Artemis was aware of the danger that she faced if they should be labelled as Lannister bannermen.

The group set off at a hard gallop into the mountainous pass that would lead the small group out of the security of their home and over into enemy territories. She had thought of sending the Stark Queen a raven in advance, but in the end had decided against that in case the letter was intercepted or fell into the wrong hands at Winterfell. She just hoped that Ellaria Stark, whom she had once glanced upon as an infant would be as understanding as she hoped when faced with Artemis' situation. But only the Gods knew what would become of her visit. She said a silent prayer to the Old gods and the New to pray for her safe passage and for her children.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"Lay down your swords!" Adrian called called out to his men. "We'll have no war brewing in this house!!" The Umbers that followed him because of his relationship with Mason lowered their weapons.

"My lord, I beg your forgiveness...." Mason nodded to Adrian, then bowed low tot he Queen. "Apologies, Your Grace. My brothers and I wish you no ill will.... Yet the Boltons will pay for what they've done. Every last one of them..." His green gaze turned cold as he eyed the men of the rival House.

Still reluctant, Ellaria gradually lowered her bow and loosed the string; she replaced the arrow in the quiver on her back.

"Oh, the Boltons will pay: that much we can agree on," she said darkly, moving forward purposely. Disgruntled and yet unsated, the Umbers took their time to move out of her way as she stalked to the granite throne on the dais rising above the long-tables.

"Surely I am not the enemy here, gentlemen," Ellaria continued as Markus and Adrian joined her. "House Bolton is no more of the North; should their Lord bend the knee, I daresay he would only make it easier for me to take his head."

She attempted to keep the shaking from her voice as she addressed the men, her eyes noting the Manderlys were mixed in with the riotous crowd. Ellaria prayed that they were hoping to stop the Umbers and not join them... And yet, she had not seen the one man in particular who should have been standing before her with an arrow trained on him instead of the unnamed Umber.

"Where is Hother Whoresbane?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Mason bowed again, then glanced at Adrian. "I know not where he is..."

* * *

**The Wall**

The air bit at his face as a cool breeze blew. Ghost stationed himself at Jon Snow's side. The direwolf's white coat made him almost invisible against the ice of the Wall, save for his red eyes…

* * *

**Bay Of Seals**

The bitter and cold winds fiercely pushed Stannis and his fleet towards his destination. Stannis had passed the many cold and barren northern landscapes that were marked with bloodshed and terror from the War. And now, as Stannis reached the neared his destination, he could see the unattended fields of the Last Hearth, the home of the Umbers. It was a harvest that would go to waste if the Umbers did not take care of it. Autumn was here and without crops and resources, the North would fall if they did not manage to recover. Ser Davos' words rang through his head as they effortlessly broke through the waves, 'You thought you should win the throne to save the Kingdom when you should save the Kingdom to win the Throne. Though Stannis had no time to stop at every seat and help their lords and ladies, not yet. For the moment he was to go where the situation was most dire and most pressing: The threat from Beyond-the-Wall. A plea that had remained unanswered for too long by all the other Kings and Queens, would be Stannis' priority.

As they sailed beyond the Bay of Seals, Stannis could make out the immense structure of ice ahead that dwarfed all objects around it. They would arrive within the hour. Stannis stood where the men worked hard to keep the ship true to it's course.

"Prepare yourselves for whatever the North has to throw at us! We move swiftly, so sharpen your weapons, and ready yourselves for when we arrive. Today, we write history! Today, we start a new beginning! Today, we start a new chapter! Wear the crowned stag and the burning heart with pride today men, you will be remembered for this!"He spoke to his men, as he walked amongst them and they cheered in response. There was a burst of energy as his men rushed back and forth handing out weapons and supplies. Here was a new beginning for the rightful King. They would remember him now. 

* * *

**Winterfell**

Hother stood above the rest of the men, towering over the lesser men as the Queen beckoned for him. Despite his age, he still maintained his broad and large frame. He looked the Stark in the eyes, showing no fear or love towards her. She stood there with her bow and arrow as though the Umbers were of no use to her and as though they had done the North no service.

Another part of him felt the distinct pang of guilt as they left the Starks. The Boltons were a twisted and a cruel House, and they were responsible for the death of the majority of his House. But the Umbers had suffered too much to be able to stay with the last of the Stark army.

"Ellaria Stark" Hother said as he walked up to the throne she sat herself upon. A throne that she needed to earn before she could take advantage of. There were whispers that she was conspiring to give the North away to the Lannisters with that disgusting Lannister prison she had made an honoured guest. If this was indeed true, which Hother did not doubt, was true then was she any better than the Boltons? The Lannisters would crush them if she did, or if they didn't so that, they would suppress the North greatly.

* * *

**Borrowlands**

Artemis' company had ridden hard through the day and they had long left the comfort of the mountainous country that she had learned to call home. Now, she was surrounded by the cold, green and grey of the Northern forests. Thankfully, Artemis had remembered how to navigate her way through the marshes that her family ruled over and the could pass by Moat Caitlin undetected.

"My Lady, we should rest here before we reach Cerwyn and Torren's Square. The North is dangerous and no place for us Southerners to be riding through. Remember that if we should be recognised as Bannermen of House Lannister before we reach Winterfell, then it will be our heads taken. And that's if we're lucky." Ser Brydd, the leader of her small company spoke to her.

"Very well Ser." Artemis said as she slowed her horse. She unsaddled her horse and took care of the beast before settling down around the small fire that had been made.

"May I be so bold as to ask why we are headed for the Winterfell?" Ser Brydd asked Artemis as he sat beside and placed a reassuring hand on her back.

"There are some wrongs I did that need to be put to rights. I never regret leaving the North to live with Lord Serrett, but there are things I left unexplained, things I never said that I need to say before my father leaves us to join the Gods."Artemis responded. She thought of her father, thoughts of getting caught fleeted her as she speculated on whether he would accept her apology and understand why she had done the things she did. A long pause followed before Ser Brydd looked his Lady in the eyes.

"And you think the Stark child will not know?" Ser Brydd asked Artemis, referring to the fact that Artemis was of House Serrett. She knew that it would be a childish hope that the Stark would not recognise her or know of House Serrett. Artemis would of course go by the name of Greengood in the North, and there always was the possibility that the self-styled Queen had no clue of Artemis' situation but it would nonetheless be foolish to play the risk.

"No. I pray that she will understand my wish. Stubborn as Starks may be, she has a family too." Artemis replied quietly, staring deep into her fire.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Ellaria's lips tightened into a thin line at the slight to her rule, but she would let it pass; it was no use riling up when she was sure they were already more than ready to take her crown from her. Nor could Ellaria bring herself to look away from those flinty eyes-- the warmth she had seen in them once, just in the start of the war, was gone-- and that face, as hard as winter frost. She attempted to keep her expression unreadable as she handed her bow and arrow to Markus along with her full quiver.

"You must think me no better than a Bolton, my lord." she said quietly to him. "You are lucky, however; it seems the leeches have spared your blood: I know that Greatjon is a prisoner of the Boltons still-- I know the proposal he made you as well."

Ellaria scanned the red faces of the Umber men, and found that she could no more blame them for turning their coats than herself for her brothers' death.

"My life for Greatjon's: that was the offer Roose Bolton gave you, was it not?"

She found herself lifting her skirts and standing in one fluid movement with an unsheathed dagger in her palm. It was one of Valyrian steel with a black leather hilt simliar to the one that was used to nearly kill her little brother, Bran. Ellaria's gaze filled with an unexpected understanding as she stood before Lord Hother. She turned the dagger in her hand and offered him the hilt.

"Take it, my lord, and use it for the reason another was given to my brother's near-assassin: to rid Westeros of a Stark. I pardon you for the treasonous crime you would commit, so that you may kill me without fear of consequence. Take it, and save your nephew-- who will no doubt surely die in any case, whether you send my head to the Lannisters or not. Take it, and save them the trouble; you cannot be so unwilling as to give your men the order to kill me and not have the gall to do it yourself! Take it-- the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take my life, then you owe it to me to look into my eyes as you do now, and hear my final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps I do not deserve to die after all... Take it."

Ellaria stood there, frozen. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard, she was afraid it might burst free from its confines. Her body tense and her muscles straining, she held up a palm to Markus and Adrian, whom she had noticed coming forward in her peripheral vision.

 "Do not stop him," was all she said in a tone that condemned defiance of her words. Ellaria fought to keep her hand from trembling so much, and she gripped the dagger too hard; she felt the steel cut into her skin, but did not flinch.

It was her duty, as a ruler, to sacrifice herself for the lands and the people who gave her the bronze and iron crown that sat on her brow; Ellaria knew she would sacrifice herself for her people in the end-- she simply hadn't thought that she would be willing to do it sooner rather than later...

"My only request is that you would bring Sansa and Arya back from the South as soon as possible-- there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and they are all that I have left, my lord."

* * *

**Bay of Seals**

Melisandre glided about the deck of Stannis Baratheon's flagship, less that content to be riding the slightly tumultuous waves of the sea than back on dry land. Her mouth was pensive as she stood into the cold spray of salt and sea that met her. Her feet carried her to his side then, amidst the shouts of his men and the howling of the wind.

"Azor Ahai," she said softly in her sonorous, exotically-toned voice. "I have seen this place in the flames, this vast wilderness of ice and white and untamed savagery. While the third false king, Balon Greyjoy has yet to fall, there is now another to claims birthright of these lands of the northern cold. A girl child-- a Queen. Would have I more of a king's blood, she would perish has the others, but I do not. What are your intentions, my lord?"

* * *

**The Wall: Castle Black**

Jon Snow silently looked up at the sky, only for a moment. The stars shined no longer; only a pitch darkness met the eyes that matched those of the late Eddard Stark of Winterfell. A shout brought him back to the fight, and Jon swung his sword. The Wildling that had advanced upon him was cut from shoulder to hip. The man's mouth gurgled with blood as he feel to the icy ground, and Jon stepped over his body to meet another foe.

Castle Black was almost overrun with the Wildlings from beyond 700-foot Wall. Only recently has he come into his command, and it was soon to be taken from him forever. But Jon refused to think about what might happen to those under his command should he fail them. He only thought to drive the horde back over the Wall, and fortify the ice, or simply destroy the lot now where they stood. He would not be forced away from his home a second time.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Adrian stood stock still. He was awed at how fast the Queen moved, but not for long. He could never catch up to her when they were children. And now she stood before them all, a gilded dagger, the one used that was supposed to take young Prince Brandon Stark's life as he lay in his bed, newly crippled. The dagger that once belonged to Tyrion Lannister now held by the hilt as Ellaria presented it to Hother Whoresbane. The Lord of House Umber stood before them, and Mason's eyes were glued to his House lord.

Adrian slowly looked to his steward, whose face told the truth: he knew of this plot, yet he had never thought it would be carried out.

"Mason," he said in a dark voice. Fearful green eyes met his.

"My Lord, I beg you..." Mason had whispered to him. "Please, stop him..." Adrian nodded and advanced with Markus, only for the She-Wolf to halt them with a raised hand.

"Your Grace, I beseech you," Adrian said to her. "Ellaria, please. This is ill advised..." He was seriously afraid that Hother would go through with this assassination and the fact that the Queen was willing to let him go, free of charge...

* * *

**Slavers Bay**

Aegons Fury, a galeon that once served the royal Iron Fleet cleaved the dark waters of the Slavers downstream, heading for the Yellow City, the froth made by the impressive ship extended from both sides like long wings. Though the name of the vessel might have been chosen after the birth of Rhaegar Targaryens and Elia Martells son, Aegon the Fourth, it was in fact a good indicator of the Targaryen Rule since the Conqueror unified the Seven Kingdoms. Simple, strict, strong. The ship itself was made of solid wood from the Stormlands, designed by a Braavosi-Westerosi partnership, for Alessander had ordered this flagship to be built with both strength and grace in mind.

As such, the galley counted two hundred and fifty oars with three main sails of black with the red dragon on them. It was not the biggest ship in the fleet, but it was the most recognisable one during its time for glory. For the prow was the shape of a roaring dragon's head, its claws of steel extended to function as a ram. The sides of the ship were the dragon's wings. In the centre of it all stood the captain of the ship, Alessander the Gray. Calm, with his eyes betraying the experience that both his blood and his years of experience as a Master of Ships, eyeing his sailors closely in order to reprimand them immediately should they blunder in a moment of carelessness. However, his crew consisted of veteran seaman and mariners so he supposedly had nothing to worry about. What he was truly worried about was the person of interest he was going to meet soon. He payed a visit to Illyrio Mopatis before heading to Yunkai. The Magister informed him about the fate of Queen Rhaellas Stormborn daughter. How she was married to Khal Drogo in exchange for an army, her rise as a Khaleesi, The Awaking of the Dragons and the destruction of Astapor…

Alessander did not know if he should be proud or scared from the achievements of the last Targaryens Emissary. But there was no time for second guessing now. The Kraken would have to take a dive within the dragons den.

"Sir…we're en route of the outside bay of Yunkai." Quartermaster Aleon announced to his Captain.

"Very Well. Keep a steay route. We will be setting anchor soon. Tell the men to make the necessary preparations." the Knight-Captain said. Everyone could seethe army of Unsullied at the shores, guarding the Camp of the Khalasar, but Ser Alessander knew that he was not in danger. After all, loyalty was his Shield.

"SET UP THE BANNER." Alessander ordered. With much swiftness and skill the sailors took down the usual white sails of the galley. Soon a very unique sail was raised. A pitch black cloth with the emblem of a large red three headed Dragon at its center. Alessander felt a smile creeping up his face. It has been 18 years since he sailed with the colors of House Tararyen, and he felt like completing a longing that was torturing him for some time. Now he was sure that even the recruits of the Unsulied, and luckily their Queen would recognize the ship that was nearing their campsite.

* * *

**Winterfell, Tybalt's Rooms**

Tybalt sat down at the desk with the pieces of parchment in front of him and his quill and ink to the side. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply before picking up the quill and beginning to write.

_"To His Grace King Joffery the First of his name, rightful King of the Andals, Rhonyar, and First M-"_

Tybalt immediately grabbed the paper and crumpled it up before throwing it to the floor. Calling Joffery king of these men among him would be just giving the little shit the idea that the Northerners were submissive. Then, knowing his nephew, he would do something stupid and the peace would cease.

The blonde man cracked his knuckles before beginning again on a new piece of parchment.

_"My Lord Father, Tywin Lannister and his grandson, King Joffery of King's Landing, this war is a menace. Far to many young men have died and the Starks are correct, Winter is indeed coming. I therefore submit that peace be established as soon as possible without the use of arms. We have already dishonorably dealt with Robb Stark, King-in-the-No-"_

Tybalt clenched his teeth and growled before disposing of that paper as well. Was he stupid!? Calling Robb Stark a king!? Admitting he thought the Red Wedding to be dishonorable!? His father would disown him and send him to the Wall for saying such things. And Joffery would have his head.

He leaned back and ran his hands through his long blonde hair. Why was this so hard for him? He used to settle disputes between lords all the time as a child and now he was making stupid mistakes! Then a little voice whispered in his head. It's because you are going against your father this time. It is because there is so much more at risk. Say the wrong thing and more could die. She could die...

Tybalt winced at the thought of her dying. His hand twitched and he pulled out another roll of parchment. Without another word he began to jot down short and sweet.

_"Father, I am well and treated well. This war is wasteful and the snows of winter return even now. We need peace. Send an emissary to meet with me and Ellaria Stark at a neutral location. All in peace. No tricks. No weddings in other words. Let's end it without ending others. Your son -Tybalt"_

With that, Tybalt rolled up the scroll and headed towards the rookery. He hoped this would work. For the North and for Her.

* * *

**Yunkai; just outside the city gates**

Daenerys Stormborn, the sole survivor of House Targaryen settled among blankets and pillows in the comfort of her own tent, outside the conquered city of Yunkai. The sky was clear, the day was sunny, and Dany was settled in among the pillows, feeding her growing dragons when a horn rang out.

"For a moment, she stilled, then sighed. Someone was comng, but who, she didn't know. Her campaign against the Free Cities led to the downfall of Astapor, her purchase of the Unsullied, and the surrender of Yunaki. And now she'll move o to Meereen... Dany sighed. She was so close to the Old Valaryian Penninsula. And yet, she'd heard stories of the old island and the Smoking Sea around it being full of poison waters and ghosts. Shaking her head, she set again the raw horse meat she'd been teasing Drogon with, and sat up amongst her pillows.

Jhiqui sat down at her side, and began braiding her hair when Ser Jorah Mormont entered her tent.

"Khaleesi," he nodded his head. "A ship, in the bay. I think you'll wish to see this..."

* * *

**_Aegon’s Fury_ , outside Yunkai's port**

Alessander decented to the cabins located underneath the galley. The dark, smoky grey ripples were accented in the hearth light as Quentyn Gray, the oldest of Alessander's children ran the soft stone along the edge of the thin and long Braavosi blade, giving it a more honed and lethal edge. By his side sat Bellandra, the youngest daughter, her face lightening the moment she saw her father arriving.

"Father!" The young girl exclaimed with joy as she rushed to meet her fathers loving embrace "Quentyn was telling me about swordsmanship. Can I be a water dancer too?" "Well in the future you might be as good as Melley is. Maybe even better. But now we will go meet the Mother of Dragons." Alessander replied with a warm smile.

"If this is not just a trick." Quentyn said sternly as he sheathed his sword, giving his father the salty scowl of the Greyjoy.

"You will see them and believe. It is the exact reason we completed such a long journey my young Kraken." Alessander said to his son, earning only an audible scoff. Son and daughter followed their father to the deck. The galley was now a breaths distance from the port outside Yunkai and the Unsullied were already moving to intercept.

"Are you sure about this Captain?" Quartermaster Aleon asked with a worried tone.

"We have only proven to have no ill intentions by now. The Unsullied will not hurt us if the order is not given." Alessander said. He understood that his crew might be intimidated by the eunuch warriors but he was not. He came too far to give in to fear.

Daenerys moved through her army of warriors and Ser Jorah led her to stand on one of the large boulders, not far from the Bay. From her vantage point, she was able to see the ship that had entered the Bay and was near to port.

"That Is the Kraken sigil of House Greyjoy, Khaleesi..." Ser Jorah told her.

"The three-headed dragon of my House..." Daenerys said.

"I believe to know that ship, Khaleesi. It is Aegon's Fury..." The last time Ser Jorah saw that ship, it was nearly taken by Robert's forces during the Rebellion. He was suddenly glad to have seen it now. "An old friend comes to greet us."

Alessander took a few steps on the shore of Yunkai, with his son and Quartermaster by his side, and his daighter by his arm. This was the only envoy he would need with him. The rest of the crew worked to anchor Aegons Fury while watching in awe as the Captain and his family neared the mass of steel that was the Unsullied army.

"We should brought a few more men with us my Lord..." the Quartermasters voice rank to his ears. But the advice was quickly brushed off. No enemy or Conqueror was arriving with children on toe. Alessander thought that that if the Unsullied Spears would impale them, they would at least have some kind of mercy towards Bellandra.

After a few seconds that seemed centuries to him, playing tag of stares with the leading Unsullied, the Kraken Hunter finally talk in the language that he was sure their masters at Astapor taught them. "*My name is Ser Alessander the Gray. I served as and Admiral and Ship Master for the Small Council of Aerys the Second and Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen. Now I come here as an ally for their daughter, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons and Rightful Queen of Westeros. Will you allow me to pass?*" he said in clear and accented High Valyrian, with his voice not breaking even a tone.

"Almost twenty years, since the last time I saw your face." Ser Jorah Mormont had worked his way through the lines of the Unsullied as Jhiqui and Daenerys descended from the rock. He made it to Ser Alessander before his Queen, and had left a clear path for her to follow.

Daenerys's violet eyes looked directly into those of the man whose ship was named for her father. "May I present the Rightful Queen of Westeros, of the Rhoynar, the Andals, and the First Men, Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen, the First of Her Name. She is the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Dothrakik, and Conquerer of Astapor and Yunkai of the Free Cities. I am Ser Jorah Mormont, Lord Commander of my Khaleesi's Queensguard."

Jorah spoke with a proud formality, and a smile.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Hother listened to the girl as she announced what she thought she knew. She had known suffering, Hother could see this, but she was blind and did not see that the North was exhausted from the War. She, a girl of 16, thought she had what it took to bring justice to the North for what happened to her family, and to his sworn King. She had never lived through a harsh Winter before and she had not seen the true extent of the damage that Winter did to the North. It seemed almost ironic that it was only the Stark girl who seemed to forget that Winter was coming to the North. The Umbers, Hother knew to have a reputation for being simple and aggressive folk. But there was a time when enough was enough, even they could see reason where she failed to.

Hother watched with stone cold eyes as the girl revealed a dagger, and he did not react further as she asked him to take her life. He took the handle of the dagger and felt it's weight, one stab to the throat and the girl would be disposed of, the North would be under Lannister rule and the remaining survivors would head back to their homes to make the most of the final harvests before Winter.

He raised the dagger and with one swift move, he slammed the dagger mere inches from Ellaria Stark's face, a ferocious growl escaped from his lips as he did so.

"House Umber will not claim the life of a Stark. Not like this." He said, "But you are so blinded by rage that you do not see that the North can take no more in this petty squabble of yours. The North has been all but exhausted by our battles against the Greyjoys and the Boltons and now standing at 5,000 only, it's time to put away the sword. You're not the only person to have a family." Hother said gruffly turning away from the throne, from the Stark Queen and from the halls he had once feasted and laughed in once upon a time. As he joined his kin and his men, he faced the small group of people stood by the throne one last time.

"We are to leave by dawn to swear allegiance to House Bolton. Our folk will take no more part in this bloody war." He announced to clear his position in all this, "Maybe you should consider doing so as well." He added as a serious note to the girl. He pitied her, he truly did. She was young and believed she could change the world, but she had not a clue of what she was doing. With that he turned and walked out of the hall with his men following him to go and prepare for their departure.

* * *

**Eastwatch-By-The-Sea**

Stannis turned as the Red Priestess spoke to him of what she had seen in her flames. But Stannis had no need of that information. He knew what the North was like, having visited it's barren and cold lands before. He also knew of the girl that Melisandre spoke of, he had been acquainted with the young girl and her brother at Winterfell many years ago after Robert's rebellion. They had been naught but children at the time, but nonetheless he remembered her.

"Her name is Ellaria Stark, I have heard of her claim and her position but she is not our most pressing issue, in fact she hardly stands as a threat at all for the moment compared to what we have waiting for us now. Our most immediate threat currently is from beyond the Wall, we have a battle to win first if we are to prove ourselves, and after that there will be time for talk of politics and strategy." Stannis replied stiffly. It was true that he would have to deal with the girl one way or another. Whether this would happen peacefully or violently would be her decision, but from what intelligence he had gathered she was in need of help. Help that Stannis may be able to offer should he be in a position to do so after the battle that was fast approaching.

But Stannis was forced to push that aside as he returned to thoughts of the monsters that lay beyond the Wall. Mammoths, giants, wargs, the walking dead, practitioners of a dark and ancient magic were only but a few of the creatures and people that had been rumoured to live beyond the Wall and they were no small army either. Tactics and strategy would win Stannis this battle as well as surprise. The true King had planned the most effective and least time-consuming path from the easternmost castle of the Wall to Castle Black and had discussed the best form of approach to the castle.

As Stannis and his fleets arrived at the harbour of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, his men began to form ranks below him, equipped with armour, weapons and bearing proudly the sigils of their own Houses and his own sigil of the crowned Stag and the Flaming heart of R'hllor as they prepared to give what aid they could in the fight against the realm's biggest threat. As the ships were secured, Stannis' armies unloaded in an orderly fashion from the ships, wasting little time with the task. They stood at over 1,000 mounted soldiers and about 3,000 more soldiers on foot behind him. After a brief talk to Cotter Pyke, Stannis learnt that the Wildling forces had already begun their assault on the Wall and they were in dire need of help due to the lack of men defending the Wall. He mounted and rode beside Melisandre and Ser Davos, ready to lead his men into the wilderness.

* * *

**Castle Black**

Jon Snow was growing weary. The Wildlings kept coming, and there seemed to be no end to them. He wished the Old Bear were still here, bu the Lord Commander was gone...

Fighting back to back, he and another Watchman stood their ground as the horde pressed on. He would not lose his home to those who wished to still it from him. If only he'd listen to Ygritte...

* * *

**King's Landing**

It had started as a small dare. As it always does. Ser Bayard Norcross, a pledged knight to House Tyrell, had placed a small bet with Ser Loras, claiming that he could best the young Tyrell champion at ring jousting. Ser Loras had happily taken on Ser Bayard's challenge, and was pleased to seat himself in the saddle of a Destrier once more and to have the silver armour that was intricately patterned with flowers and leaves fitted on him once more. With the gravity of the situation he found himself in currently, promised to the craziest woman in all Seven Kingdoms and no closer to having his vengeance over Renly's death carried out than he had been when the Tyrells had arrived at King's Landing. But now, as he warmed up around the arena on his horse, he was able to forget that for a while and allow the thrill of jousting to take over.

Ser Bayard had gone first and had managed to thrust his lance through the ring and carried it triumphantly. Then, it came to Loras' turn. Loras lined his destrier up, and with the slightest release of his reins his ride set off at a hard gallop, charging towards his goal. Loras stood in his stirrups, balancing himself as his horse thundered onwards. He steadied his lance and held it straight as he aimed for the space between the hoop. Unsurprisingly as his destrier galloped past the hoop, Loras easily swooped up the ring and proudly rode to the end of the arena.

The crowds had begun growing bigger and bigger as Ser Bayard and Loras had continued their friendly competition, though they grew more and more competitive as the hoops became of a smaller size and more awkward for both the knights to reach. It had been only after a long while and great deal of jousts, until Ser Loras finally emerged triumphant as he had expected. And as he waved the ring that had won him a fairly small amount of gold from Bayard compared to the large amount of respect he earned from the goldcloaks watching him, he approached the young and excitable Prince Tommen who watched eagerly from the side and presented the boy with the ring.

"Perhaps, the young Prince would care to have a go?" He smiled as he rasied his visor to look at the young boy who nodded eagerly at Loras' offer. His mother was not around at the present moment, but Loras saw no danger in allowing his future brother and son to have a go on a pony of his own. After all, if he could gain the favour of her child, perhaps Cersei would not be as harsh to him as she had been before. It angered him greatly to be insulted and disregarded in the manner that the Queen Regent did so, but for his sister's sake he remained patient and committed no irrational act. He only hoped she could do the same before he would let his emotions get the better of him.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"NO!!" Adrian and Mason shouted in unison as Hother Umber brought the dagger down. Two inches from the Queen's face. Adrian glared at Hother Umber and would have spoken had Mason not said something first.

"My Lord, how are we to side with the Boltons, and when not a moment ago we were to slaughter their brethren here in this hall?! How can you side with murderers and turncoats when the Queen only means to save what little family she has left? The King of the North is dead, along with her lady-mother. Her lord-father's head in on a spike at the Red Keep, Brandon and little Rickon are dead, Princess Sansa is being held captive at the Red Keep, and Princess Arya is in hiding...." Mason spoke in a loud voice to the Lord of his House. The room was silent as he did so.

"All I ask if for you to reconsider. The Boltons are allied with the Freys, and this war will not end until Late Walder pays for what he's done. The bastard in King's Landing has no right to rule, and hell, at this point, Stannis might as well stay wherever the hell he is, Gods willing. The Queen wishes to save what's left of her broken family, and we are her lords bannermen. Our ancestors swore an oath to the Kings of Winter long ago, and if we turn from their new Queen, then we are no better than the Freys, the Boltons, or those that follow the bastard on the Iron Throne."

Adrian moved to stand at his steward's side. He was proud of Mason for standing up to his lord. "Please... we cannot break our oath, m'lord." said Mason with finality.

Adrian turned to look at Ellaria, his expression knowing and understanding for what she almost had Hother do.

Hother paused a moment as his kin spoke out, the rest of the Umber army turned to Hother awaiting an answer. A soft muttering filled the room as Mason Umber defied Hother's orders. And before he left the Halls of Winterfell.

"You know nothing boy," Hother growled at Mason "You think that we can just stroll right into King's Landing to save Sansa and then wander around the rest of Westeros in search for Arya? Don't forget that we have our own family! I for one, am not one who would see mine own family with their heads on pikes just for an act of petty vengeance. What was done was terrible, but you can't change it by leading thousands of Northerners to their death!" Now Hother was addressing all the Lords that stood there and he paused a while as they whispered amongst themselves at his words.

"Wars don't end with the death of one enemy. I thought you wiser than that, Mason. We have a number of enemies, the Freys and Boltons are just a few, the Lannisters are the people whom both these people serve and they are out of our reach. And you think with an army of but 5,000 you can march on all these Houses? See sense, this war is lost! Robb and Catelyn Stark were not the only people killed at the Red Wedding boy. We have lost Smalljon and Greatjon's life is now in jeopardy! And yet I'm not willing to sacrifice my people by the thousands just to take my vengeance against the men responsible." Hother finished and led the rest of his family away from the Hall and left to pack their baggage and resources and prepared his men to leave. If Ellaria Stark wanted vengeance, she could carry it out with 4,000 men.

Mason watched as the Lord of his House spoke, then left. With a frustrated noise, Mason looked to the Queen. "Those my family lost at the Red Wedding are no farther from my mind then your mother and brother, Your Grace. Smalljon's life was not lost in vain; and if my House Lord had only thought further, he would see that we could take Walder Frey and his sons, and drown the bastards. I would have vengeance for your family as well as mine."

Adrian made like he was going to speak, but then he didn't say anything. Hother was right; they didn't have all the resources to take down the Freys, the Boltons, and the Lannisters in one fell swoop. And yet, Mason was right: Hother was ready to kill a Bolton not twenty minutes ago. He could see both sides of the argument, so he choose to agree with neither one.

They would simply have to make due with 4,000 men and dwindling resources.

* * *

**The Next Morning - Winterfell, The Great Keep**

Ellaria was still in bed some time after Winterfell came back to life, although she was wide awake. The night had been too long and too rifled with unrest for her to get some of her own, much less have peaceful dreams. The faces of her allies-- and her enemies --had flashed throughout her mind; all had been either glowering, shouting, or laughing in her face. Every which way she turned, there was an awful expression of abhorrence or maniacal glee. Ellaria had spun around and around over and over until their voices and faces blended together into a horrible blue and a painful screech. Ellaria winced as the dreadful sound whispered in her ears.

She didn't even want to begin to think about whose expression or voice hurt her most... The young woman sat up in the bed that once belonged to her parents, worn and weary from little to no sleep. Her hand reached to scrub her face as it all came hurtling back to her with a rush: the Boltons swayed Hother Whoresbane into joining them against her through no means that were noble by any man's standards, and now Ellaria was 1,000 men the lesser in a already meager force of 5,000. This only made everything that much more difficult for the North in every way, and the foreboding feeling pressed heavily onto her shoulders.

Ellaria tried to detach herself form it and got out of bed, her movements shifting the heavy white direwolf that lay against her side. Winter's Keeper made a snorting sound and rose her head to watch as the young queen moved about her chambers. For those moments in between the breaths she took as she stood staring at Lord Hother-- the thought that he might actually grant her request both terrified her and cause her relief.

She was terrified, because of course she did not want to die so soon without having avenged her family-- terrified that she would leave Sansa and Arya all alone int eh world without a single soul who had the drive to see them safe and returned home, that she would leave her people with no one to care for them, to be their mother and usher them into an age of peace and prosperity for the North as its own ruler again. Relieved that she would not be forced to live another day without her mother and her father, without her beloved twin brother, and without the Lannisters stealing everything else away from her. In all, Ellaria had wanted, just for those few moments, to give everything what they wanted: she had wanted to die.

But when Hother returned the dagger, all she could bear to feel was that familiar numbness she hated so much. As he walked away-- and took his men with him, emptying nearly half of the Great Hall --Ellaria wanted to curse him for his unwillingness to give her a chance, his stubbornness for not seeing her intentions for what they were, and what she felt to be his complete madness in turning towards House Bolton and House Lannister. And the fact that he dared to suggest she bow under than Bolton leech, too? It had taken every ounce of control she had left not to send that dagger in her throne hurtling towards Hother's back...

Winter's Keeper was at her side then, sensing the warring emotions within her as Ellaria stalked about the room. She was angry, so angry, and yet she had been taught that she could not judge a man because he takes the road e thinks would better favor him... And her thoughts ran rampant about her mind, she had gather some hunting attire that had been recently tailored to fit her well from a chest at the end of her bed; a soft, deep green tunic and leather trousers, a belt with all of her knives and self-made tonics her poisonous flora intact. As she got dressed, the direwolf gifted her with her boots, and Ellaria pulled those onto her feet after she tied her hair back with a plain leather strap. Winter's Keeper left the room first, and she followed her as she draped a fur-lined cloak about her shoulders.

She would go hunting in order to distract and occupy herself, and Ellaria knew it would provide ample time for her to speak further with Tybalt Lannister.

* * *

**King's Landing, The Red Keep**

"Who exactly do you think you are, boy?" Cersei glowered down at Loras Tyrell as he stood before her in his tailored armor. She had caught wind of the jousting he had had on the grounds yesterday with Baynard Norcross-- as well as Tommen's involvment.

The little prince himself was with them at the moment, more than happy to play with the ring Loras presented him that pay any attention to the adult's arguing.

"he is a child! He is not nearly old enough to ride on his own, much less have a go in a jousting! My father may have arranged the fucking farse of a marriage between you and I, but I swear, the King will have your head if you ever put his little brother's life in jeopardy ever again!"

Of course, Cersei was exaggerating, as she sometimes did when it came to her youngest child, still a babe to many and as old as Rickon Stark. The only reason she had not ordered his execution on the spot after the news was the fact that she dare on jeopardize the fragile alliance House Lannister had with house Tyrell-- no matter how much she couldn't wait to be rid of these blasted people a moment longer. She was in no mood to favor the Roses of Highgarden today, much less any other day the longer they were at Court; however, Cersei herself was in no position to be rid of them publicly by any means, and so would bide her time impatiently, praying tot eh gods they wilted before she even had to lift a finger...

Tommen, however, was of a different mind.

"Momma!" he gushed happily as he rose onto his feet and waved the golden ring in her face. "Look what Loras got me! Look what Loras got me! And I got another one, see?"

Overtly joyful, the boy pulled a tiny ring from the pocket of his trousers, an identical one to the other. Granted, all he'd done was sit up in the saddle and pluck the ring right out of its place, but Tommen still took it in stride as though he'd won an entire jousting.

"I won! Loras saw me," he said loudly, gesturing to the Knight.

* * *

**Winterfell**

The morning wind blew through Strongboar's hair as he laid his gaze upon the courtyard from the battlements, eyeing the pairs of recruits that were having a sparr against eachother. He nodded firmly at the sight of sparrs and continued his stroll through the battlements, pondering of the events that were made last night. Eventualy he arrived at the stairs down to the courtyard from the battlements, he gave the sorrounding area a quick scan before continueing down the stairs. When he reached the end of the stairs, Strongboar were greeted by a well knocked pair of recruits, both moaning. He gave them both a firm pat on the shoulder before entering the guard quarters of Winterfell. There he entered his quarters, an old room, having a old sweaty stench in it which he still despised after living in the same room for years. After just standing in the room for a while, staring into the air, he decided to bring his wooden chest, having a Direwolf sign on it, adorned in steel. As Strongboar opened it, a layer of chainmail appeard, having a direwolf on the coat which adorned the chestmail, from there he equipped it, letting out a reliefed sigh after finishing equipping his uniform, giving myself a firm nod. From there, he turned to the left where he faced a almost empty wall, having a longsword and a shield on it. The Longsword had a boar sign made on the top of the hilt, as on his shield there was a Direwolf, standard issued armour, he equipped the weapon and the shield, having a good feeling about himself as he did. He exited the garrison and mounted his destrier which is named Wilbert, he'd recieved orders to have a look around the area nearby Winterfell and make sure nothing was amiss in the area.

Ellaria glanced about he courtyard and pulled up the hood of her cloak as she turned into the wind. She was alone, having sent her direwolf to rouse Tybalt from his bed in hopes of his joining her; the young woman just so happened to see Lyle 'Strongboar' Tokenhall across the way as she maneuvered towards the stables.

"Ser Lyle!" she called in greeting, glad to see a face that wasn't in an awful expression.

Hearing a well known voice, he'd look at Ellaria, having a smile appear on his face. He strolls over to Ellaria on his destrier, giving her a deep bow from his current position on his horse, and says "Hail, my queen. How fare you on this windy day?" He said, offering her a kind smile.

Ellaria sighed heavily, and her hand rose to meet his Destrier's muzzle. "It feels as though it has already been a long day, my friend, and I'm almost certain that it isn't even noon. I'm inclined to hunt today, and must discuss with The Red Reasoner the aspects of his proposal to negotiate with his father for me."

She looked up at Lyle, her tone already stern and full of warning. "Please, do not think to sway me from this task, Strongboar. I have no desire to quarrel with any other man after last night, so please keep your opinions of Lord Tyblat Lannister to yourself..."

Lyle dips his head in a respectful way towards Ellaria "Of course, my queen. I'll not mention a thing of it, and after last night, I can understand your desire to not hear any rubbish opinions from old men as myself." He ended with a kind chuckle, smiling at his queen.

Ellaria, relieved, snorted in a rather unladylike manner. "Old men as yourself, you say?" she gave him a laugh, more than glad to be distracted.

"Who in this realm would are call men such as yourself old?" she moved away and strode down the rows of horse stalls until she found her own mare, her coat a deep and dark brown, almost black.

"Would you help me saddle her?"

Lyle slided down from Wilbert patting him on the head, then he'd grasp the reins and lead Wilbert towards the stable, alongside Ellaria and her horse. He'd attach the reins of Wilbert on a wooden pole, then turn towards his queen, saying "Of course, my queen" dipping his head slightly before he began helping Ellaria saddle her horse.

* * *

**Winterfell - Tybalt's Private Quarters**

Tybalt opened his eyes and looked around. Instead of the small chamber in the ruins of Winterfell, he now found himself under the sheets of his old childhood bed in his room at Casterly Rock. Yes, yes it was most definitely his room. Across from the foot of his bed was the wall with the large lion tapestry on it. Instead of the rugged cobblestone walls of Winterfell, he recognized the smoothed out stone of the Rock itself. To his left were the little table with his quill and ink and next to that were his three bookcases filled to the brim with tales and histories. The large double doors to his room were still closed. He then moved to look to his right. There was the large red and gold carpet which he remembered spending hours playing on. Even his old blocks had been built into a strong castle with little toy knights laying siege to it. Even the old toy trebuchet that Tywin had bought him was set up.

Tentatively, he got out of bed and walked across the carpet. It had that rough but comforting feel on the bottoms of his feet that he had grown to love so much. Step by step he moved towards the moving curtains that shifted ever so slightly from the wind coming off the sea.

Without hesitation, Tybalt pushed aside the curtains and stepped onto the balcony. The sight was even more beautiful than he remembered.

The sun was still hidden by the Rock itself to the east but it's golden rays could be seen sparkling off the calm waters of the Sunset Sea. The roar of the waves hitting the rock was muffled far below and was now only a soothing rush in his ears. The smell of salt was gentle and soft as it gently caressed his nostrils. And the coolness of of the early morning tingled on his skin while the light off the water promised a soon coming warmth with the steady rise of the sun. He looked to the left of the balcony to behold that, to the south, the small folk of Lannisport had already begun their day. Fleets of fishing vessels dotted the water while larger ships headed south for many destinations. Perhaps some were going to Bear Island for furs or to the Arbor for some wine. Tybalt could only guess.

As he was lost in his thoughts he heard the doors of his room open and he turned to see a much younger Maester Creylen step into the room, his chain jingling as he walked. The young man raised his soft brown eyebrows seeing Tybalt already awake.

"Ah, good morning Master Tybalt. I did not expect to see you up so early. I clearly remember your mother telling you to sleep in more often," the healer said, narrowing his light green eyes.

Tybalt waved it off, "I can't help it Creylen, the sun-"

Creylen cut him off with a sigh, "Well best we get you to breakfast yes?"

A few minutes and a new change of clothes later found Tybalt following the maester down the halls of Casterly Rock and into the large dining room. There at the table was his entire family looking... surprisingly happy. In fact it was all very odd. His father, renowned for his scowl, was chuckling lightly at a joke a younger (but still handsome) Jaime had just told. His mother, Joanna's, hand was held fast in his fathers and she looked with her adoring eyes as the young (but still infinitely beautiful) Cersei fed a giggling baby Tyrion. It was all very odd. And Tybalt liked it.

Tywin, seeing his son, gave him a soft smile and motioned for him to take a seat next to his mother. Cersei turned and giggled, "Nice to see you still a live! I was worried my only intelligent sibling would never wake."

Jaime gave a fake pout while toddler Tyrion gurgled and shoved his face into a bowl of porridge. The entire family laughed as Tyrion smiled at them as if he had just solved the cure for greyscale. As Joanna helped Cersei clean up the little dwarf, Tywin looked at his to oldest sons with pride.

"Now both of you are in for a surprise... Jaime, " he said, addressing the young man, "You will be going with the Crakehalls to Storms End to the tournament celebrating young Renly's nameday. And I do believe someone is in line to joust..."

Jaime's face broke into a grin as he cheered. Joanna looked disapprovingly at her husband who just shrugged with a content grin plastered on his face. The Lord then turned to his younger son, "And Tybalt, I have business away south in Oldtown. And if I do believe I am correct, there is a large library you'd like to visit as well."

Tybalt's face broke into a grin as he jumped into his father's arms as he hugged the man. Instead of going stiff, Tywin hugged him tightly back. This seemed to initiate a tender moment as the rest of the family joined in the hug.

 _Yes,_ Tybalt thought, _Yes, I must be dreaming._

And with that, he opened his eyes to the morning light of Winterfell.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"Thank you," Ellaria murmured as she pulled a saddle blanket off of the stall and draped it over the mare's back.

 Winter's Keeper padded along throughout the Great Keep, her ears perked and her mouth in a grin. The female direwolf tracked the scent she knew belonged to Tybalt Lannister, something she could easily distinguish between the humans that crowded around her as she sat by her mistresses' side.

She rounded a corner and headed straight for the door the man's scent clouded around. Without further ado, she nudged it open, content to find it unbind within the wall that surrounded it. Winter's Keeper slipped into the room and made a soft sound as she neared the bed, alerting the human man to her presence. He surely wouldn't be so frightened then as she sat on her haunches and placed her head near his feet.

Lyle patted the horse as the saddle were placed on the horse, giving his queen a firm nod, saying "If there's no more, my queen, I must resume my patrol. I'll have the Master - at -arms after my head if I don't give him a report soon." He smirked at her before un - attaching the reins from the wooden pole, and mount his destrier. If not for any more interruptions, he'd be riding out from Winterfell, riding in a moderate speed.

Tybalt felt something hit his feet. He slowly looked down to see a massive direwolf staring back at him. With yell he fell off the bed, the blankets coming with him as he hit the hard stone floor. 

Ellaria gave Lyle a thankful smile and bid him farewell in return. As he left her alone, she led her mare from the stable and fed her some fresh fruit she'd grabbed on her way out. Before Ellaria could give her mare the bit, however, she was rather started when a man's shout echoed out of a window in the Great Keep, and dropped the reigns in result. After a moment, a knowing smile bloomed on her lips; her direwolf had found her man after all.

"It is time he awoke anyway, lovely," she cooed into her neck and patted down her coat on the other side. "Just stay here a moment, would you?"

Ellaria moved away and headed towards the kitchens. After requesting a sizable bounty of fruit, seasoned meat, cheese, bread, and wine for later on the day, the young woman left the kitchens and returned inside the Keep. She smiled to those in passing as she strode by, attempting to keep the appearance that last night was a distant event in her memory, none too recent to be remembered. Ellaria moved about eh corridors and stairwells until she came to the hall she new housed Tywin Lannister's second son, just in time to see Winter's Keeper slip from the room.

"I hope you are donning your hunting leathers, my lord," she chuckled loudly enough so that he could hear her through the door to this bedroom. Respectful of his modesty, he stood some feet away with her back turned, leaning alongside a shuttered window.

"We are, after all, to hunt in the Wolfswood today."

Adrian stood at the hearth as the fire burned low, dying in the morning light. He was always awake before the dawning of the new day- a contrast of his House's name. Being a Son of the Night and loving the dawn.... that always made his mother laugh. He looked to his bed, watching the furs shift, seeing a tuft of red amidst the black and brown. Adrian smiled to himself, equipped his sword and cloak, stoked the fire before exiting the room to let his roommate rest.

Descending the steps of the tower, he came to a hallway. Entering the Great Hall, he saw that Ellaria was not seated on the dais, but his sisters and mother were.

"Good morrow, Adrian." his mother said.

"Lady-mother," he replied, pecking her cheek with a kiss. He did the same to his sisters, and sat down to eat black bread and bacon. Adrian planned to attend Ellaria is the matters of her men, but he would be well-fed first. His mother often scolded him as if he were a child about not breaking fast as he should.

His mind turned to other thoughts: that of Robb and the lost Lady Catelyn. His grief had been long-standing, and he feared his broken heart could never be remended. His brother was lost to the war with the Lannisters by the Freys' treachery, and he would have retribution. Then there was the matter of the Queen's sisters, Princesses Sansa and Arya... and Jeyne.

Jeyne Westerling was Robb's queen before the Red Wedding. Robb loved her more all save Ellaria, and Adrian had always hoped to find a love as Robb did. Yet, the slight on the Gods-be-damned Frey "honor" costed Robb his life.... and not so that of his wife, if the rumors were true... 

* * *

**Winterfell: The North Tower**

The cry of the wind could be head pushing against the stones of the high tower. The fire in the hearth was well lit, and thankfully for the springs beneath the castle's soil, the water rushed between the walls. A woman was lying in the bed, appearing dead; the faint rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life.

The lady was Jeyne... Queen Jeyne Westerling of the North. She was thought dead by many in the North, as well as the South-- as was vital for the survival of Robb's prince, little Eddard. The Prince's father would never teach him to ride horses, but he would grow into a man as honorable as his Stark blood allowed. Jeyne watched as her adopted mother, husband, and his guard were all slaughtered at Walder Frey's command.She knew the risks of war, and yet, she could not bring herself to think on that night without committing herself to taking a knife and cutting her own throat open.

The only thing that kept her alive, the only thing that the Gods seemed fit to leave her was her prince, Eddard. The loss of his namesake was what ignited this whole war, and she would see her son sit upon the Northern Throne... and hold over the Iron if it came to it.

For now, Jeyne was condemned to bed-rest, and her reappearance to the men was long overdue. Yet, she could only be grateful with the life the Old Gods saw fit to leave with her, and hope for a speedy recovery. 

* * *

**Castle Black**

Jon Snow sighed as he surveyed the damage the wildlings had done. From Beyond the Wall they came, and back over they were sent. He was proud of his fellow black brothers, and was glad to be counted among those still alive. Grateful his Gods saw fit to spare his life, he looked to his friend Samwell Tarley.

"You alright?" he asked the large man. He nodded, smiling.

"Thanks to you, Jon Snow." Shaking his head, Jon knelt to ruffle the soft fur of Ghost's neck.

"You did well, Ghost." The animal gave him a wolfish grin, licking his hand.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Alysanne Mormont sat on the edge of her bed shoving a foot into her boot. She looked to one of the windows and a small smile crept onto her face as she felt the cold wind entering her room. She finished tying up the boot and stood. She moved about the room passing by her spiked mace first. She studied her appearance in the mirror. The heir to the Bear Island had a rough look to her, more masculine than the average female, even for a Northerner. She had big thighs, big breasts, and big hands ridged with callus. Even in sleep she wore ring mail under her furs, boiled leather under that, and an old sheepskin under the leather, turned inside out for warmth. All those layers made her look almost as wide as she was tall. And ferocious

It never really mattered to her. Alysane could acquire a night companion if she desired, but the thought of her children and the rush of fighting was a better stimulate than some man. At least most of the time. This time as she walked, she grabbed her weapon, strapping it and placing it onto her right hip . She then headed out into the majestic Castle of Winterfell. She headed towards the courtyard. Her dark eyes quickly spotted the figure of her cousin Aerik on a corner of the courtyard, chopping wood. The two cousins both believed that no servant or soldier hands should be wasted if you could do it on your own, a mindset that someone would develop living on Bear Island.

"Winterfell seeims empty today..." Alysane remarked as she sat nearby and picked up a quiver as she begun fletching a set of arrows.

"Lord Umber was quick on his departure. Let as hope that they reach Dreadfort before the Sun sets. We are for a cold night." he said as the long-axe rose above his head and quickly landed, chopping the unmovable piece of Wood in front of him. Aerik Mormont was someone you could call an altruist. Caring for the well-being of fellow Northmen, even if it meant that in a future battle against the Bolton Bannermen they would find themselves crashed underneath the mace of the Iron Bear.

The conversation between the cousins quickly changed topic as they begun to talk about the arrival of Maedge at Winterfell and Lyana and Lyra protecting Bear Island. It was Mason Umbers choice to leave Queen Stark. He wanted the best for his House and his family and the Mormont cousins could not blame him for that. But the Mormonts could never follow him as they survived through their Oath. The oath that every young bear had burned on their mind since the day Rodrik Stark defeated the Kraken in the infamous wrestle match.

"There is only one King in the North, and his name is Stark"

* * *

**King's Landing**

Kevan strolls through the Red keep, having his left hand upon the hilt of his sword, he'd inspect the guards stationed on each post, making sure they're in full issued uniform and how they are doing. Eventualy he begins to hear voices down the corridor, one of them a known voice of his. He goes down the corridor, eventualy meeting Loras, Cercei and Tommen, knowing better Kevan would stay at a distance, having his right shoulder leaned towards the wall, listening to the conversation between the two. He had no intentions of interrupting them.

"Uncle Kevan!!" Tommen squealed happily as he saw him past Loras, and sprang forward to meet him.

"Look at my rings! Loras got me this one, and I got this one all by myself!"

Kevan kneeled down on his right knee, his armour crackling as he does. He'd give Tommen a kiss on his forehead before looking down upon the rings "They're rings fit for a prince like you!" He said as he patted Tommen gently on the shoulder, and stands up, meeting Loras and Cercei's gaze "Cercei, Ser Loras." He gave them both a firm nod, and a gently smile.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Adrian finished breaking his fast with his mothers and sisters, then moved on to the courtyard. The Queen was already saddled, and looked about to leave.

"Your Grace," he called out to her. Moving through the open hallway and descending into the courtyard, Adrian moved to her horse's side. "Will you hunt today?" he asked her. "May I join you?"

Soon, Tybalt had come out into the courtyard, dressed in some leathers, ready for hunting. A heavy cloak covered his back and if not for his darker skin, some might have assumed him a Northerner.

Ellaria appeared with her direwolf at her side, juggling a bundle of the food she'd had prepared in the kitchens earlier.

"Good mroning, Adrian, adn of course you may," she smiled at him before turning to Tybalt.

"I've already had your stallion brushed down and saddle for you," she said as she placed the food in a saddle bag.

Marcus, who had followed closely behind her, greeted Adrian with a simple nod of his head. However, he snorted softly and stared at Tybalt with disdain, holding no love for the Lannister. Ellaria mounted, and he kept his eyes on Tybalt as he handed her her bow and arrows.

"Shall we be off then, you three? I would like to have ample game to bring back by sundown," she said, turning her mare towards the Hunter's Gate that led out into the Wolfswood.

"Aye, Your Grace," Adrian answered. He merely glanced at Tybalt with a short nod before following after the Queen. Adrian had his own black stallion, the aptly-named Shadow, saddled and ready for riding. As he mounted, he looked about the courtyard, noticing how there were so many less men. He thought to say nothing of the matter in front of the Queen, and slightly dug his heel into Shadow's side.

Tybalt mounted his large brown steed with it's Lannister designed saddle already on it. He chuckled as he patted the animal with care, "Nice to see you again, Lann." In response the horse snorted and began to move ahead.

* * *

**Just Outside Winterfell**

As the Wolfswood started thinning, Artemis began doubting whether she should be doing this. She had not been this reckless in her decision making since she was fourteen years of age and she had chosen to leave the North behind her and explore the South, and she was uncomfortable making such a hazardous decision having used little aside reason and caution to base her decisions off for years. Her urge to turn back now whilst she still could was only increased by the thought of her three children back at Silverhill with no father nor mother to keep them safe from the threats of War and whom she did not want to leave alone in this world at all costs.

But then there was that part of her that refused to allow her to tug on one of her stallion's reins and turn around to head back to Silverhill. That part of her which ordered her on her honour as a Crannogman to pay her father respect and redeem herself in his eyes before he passed away.

She turned to face Ser Brydd who gave her a reassuring nod as they made eye contact. Artemis knew that he had his own doubts about what she was going to do and that he knew that this was hard for her as well but she was greatly for his respect of her and her decisions.

As the walls of Winterfell came into view, Artemis tugged on the reins of her stallion, bringing her silver steed to a halt. She took a sharp breath in to clear her mind and steady herself.

"We dismount here and approach on foot." She said as she pulled down her hood from her mossy green roughspun cloak. "To minimise our chances of losing our heads, I ask that you only speak when spoken to and if you are spoken to, answer in short sentences. Remember we are of the Marsh and so you are to be reserved and quiet, which is much to our advantage." Artemis spoke with a certain decisiveness to her small company.

Every step closer and Artemis could hear another voice and sound added to the general din that came from within the city walls. Feeling the panic rising again in her, Artemis resorted to how she had dealt with this situation for her visits to King's Landing, by ridding herself of any emotional expression at all and pretending that she was almost non-existent. The gate came into view and Artemis risked a glance at her company who all gave her nods to indicate that they were ready to go. They were all dressed in the typical clothing of Crannogmen, with a very simple wardrobe and more practical than anything else, keeping to the green and grey that she had worn as a young child in the marshes which differed greatly from the royal blue, silver and emerald greens she was expected to wear as Lady Serrett.

"Halt!" Ordered the Winterfell guards as Artemis arrived, leading her silver stallion behind her. "State your names and business in Winterfell" Instructed the same guard, brandishing his weapons to show that he meant business. Artemis turned to her men and they all placed their weapons before the guards to show that they had not come with ill intentions.

"Good Sers, I am daughter to Lord Greengood and this is my company. We have travelled far to visit my father who remains in a state of infirmity here in the halls of Winterfell. We only wish to see him and if possible to bring him back to our home if he is well enough." Artemis spoke softly, not wanting to come across as aggressive or dangerous in any manner though her face was still kept empty of emotion.

Upon her introduction, the guards whispered amongst themselves for a short while before turning back to her. "Your arrival will be notified to our Queen, whilst you are waiting we can escort you to the main hall. Do you have any weapons to declare besides the ones that you have placed before us?" The guard asked, to which both Artemis and her companions shook their heads, most of them truthfully but Artemis was certain that there were a few like herself that had kept small daggers on themselves in case they find themselves in serious trouble. 

"This way then m'lady" A small group of Northern guards surrounded her company and began leading the group into the once familiar Northern capital that she had loved and been fascinated by once upon a time.

"I am glad is a day to hunt on," Ellaria murmured to herself as she glanced at the clear, pale blue-white sky.

The din of barking that came from the lively kennels nearby almost engulfed a chorus of gruff voices coming from the East gate. However, she managed to catch the sounds, and Ellaria's horse paused in step. She turned in the saddle and her eyes focused on a sight across the courtyard that was nearly cut off by the Library Tower as it eclipsed her view: a company of men garbed in the grey and green of the Crannogmen.

"I wonder what this is about? There has been no change in Lord Greengood's condition I am not aware of," Ellaria said to no one in particular, highlighting the only reason she could think of that the Crannogmen as she turned her horse away from the Hunter's Gate and back further into the Courtyard.

"And Howland Reed has made no mention that he would come to Court yet..." She dismounted, curious of the company; absentmindedly rude, she left the three men to fend for themselves as she followed them into the Great Hall.

"May I be of some assistance, my good people?" Ellaria said loudly enough, noting unfamiliar faces who turned to look back at her, startled. "Apologies," she added.

Adrian had Shadow follow Ellaria horse from the gate, but frowned when she suddenly dismounted. "Your Grace!" he called out to her, wondering where she was going. He had heard the voices coming from the East Gate, but he hadn't known to whom they belonged.

Adrian quickly followed behind his queen as she moved behind the group, then made her presence known in the Great Hall. Adrian's mother, Adreya, and Adryna stood when they noticed Ellaria.

"Good mourn, Your Grace," said the Lady Shadewood. Adreya and Adryna gave bright smiled to the She-Wolf. "I trust my son is a dutiful servant to his Queen." she said, nodding. Adreya moved to Ellaria's side, and took hold of her hand, as she often did with Adrian when she could.

"Is it true, Lady Stark?" She hadn't used the proper title, but Adrian didn't movbe to correct his sister. She was young, and in time, she would learn the strong of names that came with one's position. "We heard Mason's brothers and cousins leave... Mason said Lord Hother was upset because he didn't understand that without giving you aid, the Lannisters would have that much more of an advantage over us. Is it true? Is Lord Hother really leaving?" Adreya's words were quick, not leaving the Queen to answer.

"Adreya!" her sister said with a slight scoff. "Apologies, Your Grace. She only meant that without the Umbers, our Houses have fewer men than before. Without them..."

"Worry not, little moon," Adrian lifted Adreya in his arms. "Lord Hother is only concerned for his family, as we should be. Mason only wishes to keep us all together. And though we bear the name Shadewood, we have Stark blood running through our viens from long ago. We are the Queen's family, though extended. Mason is only sad that our family could not be larger. Is that not right, my lady?" Adrian turned to his long-time friend.

He could understand that Adreya and Adryna were young, but there were things the knew nothing about, such as the toils that trouble the men, and long fight that has ensued and taken its toll. They ony know that Starks and Northerners are good-- well not all of them --and Lannisters, Freys, Greyjoys, Tyrells, and all that follow the lion are bad.

Well, he glanced at Tybalt Lannister, perhaps not all...

* * *

**Winterfell**

Artemis' gaze flickered around Winterfell, remembering the time she had spent here as a child. The warmth that the halls of Winterfell offered were a comfort after the long and arduous ride from the Westerlands and the Artemis was grateful for the protection they offered from the wild weather of the North. Though despite the sweet memories she associated with the Northern city, the state of the city was far from the bustling and vivacious place she remembered. The war had left it's mark on the city and whilst it was on the mend now that the Starks had fled back to their home, the damage done by the Greyjoys was still present. Where there had once been swarms of people doing business and enjoying themselves in the courtyard there was now only a handful who milled around. Seeing a place that she had once wished to call home in it's poor state filled Artemis with a sadness and she continued on towards the Great Hall.

As they arrived, an authoritative and stern voice snapped Artemis out of her train of thought. A voice that Artemis could only think of one person to whom it would belong to: The Queen Of Winter, Ellaria Stark. At the sound of her voice, Artemis felt slightly nauseous and quite faint but she wouldn't let any of that show in front of the Stark Queen. Artemis turned to face the Queen with a light smile playing on her lips.

Artemis opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a mother, son and daughter, Artemis presumed, of House Shadewood. She remembered her father pointing out their House when the Northern families had been gathered at Winterfell long ago, but she had never particularly warmed to them, they had always seemed more distant than a lot of the families. Many people said that they were Targaryen sympathisers, the thought of that family sent shivers down her spines and she failed to understand how a Northerner could possible feel loyal to the family that murdered three Starks in cold blood and plagued by madness. Despite her dislike for the Shadewoods, Artemis said nothing and allowed them to address the Queen, after all it was only polite that she should do so as a guest. When they had finished she turned to Ellaria Stark to state her business before she was left lingering for hours.

"Your Grace," Artemis said as she curtsied low in respect for the girl. "My companions and I have travelled to see the Lord Greengood, I am his daughter and I only request that I am allowed to see my father whilst he remains infirm within your walls. I would've come sooner had it not been for the ongoing war within the North. We must apologise for our unexpected arrival, we were advised against sending a raven headed for Winterfell as it was likely to be intercepted by enemies." She spoke softly and with a serene tone.

Whilst what she said was no lie, she did not feel the need to delve into her marriage right now in the Great Hall in front of a bunch of Northerners who were thirsty for Lannister blood. She was thankful though for the fact that House Serrett had never negotiated with the North personally and so the Northerners would not know the faces of the men and women that it constituted of. That had kept her paired with her head and she could only pray that she wouldn't have to part with it on this journey.

"And if Your Grace would allow it, my men and I are parched after the long ride to Winterfell if we could but have a little to drink, I would be eternally grateful." Artemis added to assure her status as a guest in Winterfell and to hopefully avoid being slaughtered within the city gates, though she wasn't sure if anybody still abided by these rules after the Red Wedding. But if anybody did, it would be the Starks.

* * *

**The Wall**

Stannis watched as a red sun dawned on the red plains outside the Wall. Where Stannis could imagine an almost spotless white landscape before him, he saw instead the aftermath of the attack on Castle Black. From the distance, Stannis could hear the crackling of the gigantic pyre built to prevent from the immense army from becoming the walking dead. Around him he could see both his own men and the men of the Night's Watch dragging the corpses away to be reduced to ashes.

Stannis continued scouring the perimeter for any sign of hidden wildling soldiers, if they could be considered fighters at all, they resembled closer to demonic savages. Though he knew that it wasn't wildlings which the Watch was looking for, it was the White Walkers that Stannis had heard so much talk of. Demons made of ice, snow and all else that is dark and cold. They were the ancient enemy Stannis had read in the history books, the monsters that the Watch had described to him, they were the only enemy that mattered. The blood that had been spilt at the battle previously had been nothing compared to what would happen should these abominations breach the defenses of the Wall.

Speaking of which, Stannis turned to face the immense ice-blue structure, watching as men garbed in black and others in their respective Houses went about repairing what they could. Sheathing his sword he walked back to the Wall and the rest of his men followed him into the stone courtyard of Castle Black. Stannis took a moment to watch how the men of the Night's Watch worked at the Wall. Stannis was a man who prided himself on order and structure, but this was territory far from what he was used to and he could use a few pointers as to how he should organise his own men. Or perhaps the Watch would need some of his help, from what he had seen most of the men in black were nothing more than boys and they truly lacked in adept warriors.

After a good hour had passed, Stannis left his station as an observer to head to his chambers given to him by the Watch. The battle was over but there was still much to be done. First and foremost the state of the Wall would have to be improved and ready for the Others. But then there lay the difficulty of the North. From their journey North and from the tales of many folk, the North was a place almost completely laid to waste by the War and was in need of a purpose and direction to set them straight once more. Stannis briskly walked into his quarters and sat down at his desk. He had already had his books, maps and writing equipment placed in here for every second he sat idle, the North was falling further in chaos, a never-ending pit that was swallowing all of Westeros.

"Is there anything Your Grace should need?" A young steward asked as he entered Stannis' chambers.

"Bring me Jon Snow, I desire to speak to him over matters of the future of the Wall and the North." Stannis said and waited as the boy rushed out to fetch his sworn brother. First things first, the Watch needed a new Commander.

* * *

**King's Landing**

Gold eyes stared into the emerald green eyes of Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent, the woman he was betrothed to and the woman known throughout the realm for an inextinguishable rage burning within her, hotter and wilder than dragonfire. The way she talked to him, as though he was a boy who knew nothing of the world would have normally had been enough to make the young Tyrell lose his short temper and speak out against the power-crazed Queen. Loras was not known for his patience nor did he tolerate humiliation under any form. After all, he was the pride of House Tyrell, he bested the Kingslayer at jousting, he was the knight of flowers, he was not a child to be treated as such.

But at this instant, his tongue was held and his lips were curled into a smirk as he listened to Prince Tommen and watched as he proudly showed both Loras' rings and his own to Cersei's Uncle, Kevan Lannister. The Queen's anger couldn't compare to the pride and joy that the young Prince was feeling and Loras knew that Cersei was very aware of the fact that Tommen had not only taken a liking to him, but to the other Tyrells including his sister and their younger cousins who often took pleasure in including the young Prince in their games.

"Ser Kevan" Loras greeted "I see Tommen's shown you what he accomplished yesterday, I regret that neither you nor your niece were able to watch Tommen riding. The boy has great talent for jousting" Loras smiled encouragingly at Tommen as he spoke and knelt down so that he was on the same level as the young Prince, now addressing himself directly to Tommen. "But like any knight you'll have to practice if you want to get better, if your Mother will agree to it I'd happily teach you what I know. And if you ask your mother and your uncle very nicely, they might just come and watch their little champion riding one of these days."He smiled at the boy before standing up again.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"Aye," Ellaria said, her eyes bearing into his little sister as her chest heaved with a long sigh. "We are all of us family, little moon, us Northerners; your brother is right, in this regard. And while we may be family, this does not mean that we have no intention to quarrel, I assure you."

She reached with as soft a smile she could manage without giving it a hardened edge and tweaked Adreya's nose. Ellaria could only forgive her for being so young-- and speaking out of turn within the company of strangers. Ellaria turned to face them then, her features hardening into an unreadable expression. She knew none of them, could recognize none who came with Lord Greengood on his earlier venture to court. However, Ellaria could not help but stiffen as the Lady stated her business here in Winterfell, along with who she was. The woman's words struck a memory itching to break through her mental barriers, and for a moment, she recalled something Lord Greengood said-- at least, when he was conscious and lucid, that is. She certainly looked like the daughter Greengood spoke of incessantly, with her mossy green eyes and waving brown hair.

She is certainly small enough, Ellaria thought, unable to keep the tug of a smile from her mouth. Her pewter and ice blue gaze full of caution and scrutiny, she bowed her head respectfully to the woman before she moved forward into the throng towards the dais.

"I must say that I am glad you have come," she said evenly. "There has only been one woman's name in particular that he cannot stop for... your father has rather been expecting you." Ellaria waved her hand at a serving maid who had brought out a late breakfast for the small, noble party.

"Fetch some wine for Lady Serrett and her men, please, and then prepare their rooms-- Silverhill and Winterfell are so far apart, you all must be aching to rest, and I am sure you have no intention of leaving until your father passes."

* * *

**King's Landing**

Tommen's green eyes lit up so brightly, Cersei had to resist the urge to backhand Loras Tyrell across his pretty little face. How dare he completely undermine her!! But Tommen, completely won over by the Knight of Flowers, whirled about, looking from Loras' face to Kevan's, to hers and back as his face split in half from his smile.

"Can I?! Will you?! We have to!! I want to!! I can be like Uncle Jamie!! I can get more rings!!!"

Cersei was until to resist an involuntary smile as he became for animated than ever, his voice high enough to break the stain-glass windows of the entire Keep if it got any louder. Tommen rushed about, hollering and whooping as he held up his rings and began to mock joust with the air. He ran into Loras, laughing uncontrollably as she clutched his legs.

"Teach me now! Teach me now!" he actually screamed, his excitement overruling all common sense a small child like him could manage. "I want to be a Knight now!"

"No," said Cersei in a stern voice. "For now, at least," she ammened as soon as Tommen's expression fell. "If you do well in your studies, shall have a talk with Ser Loras about your training, darling. We shall see then."

* * *

**The Wall**

"What are you planning, my King?" Melisandre asked softly, her voice husky as she rose from his bed in nothing but a swath of red silk.

"I would know your thoughts, for the North remembers all that has come to pass-- she would welcome you with open arms, if given time to prepare itself for her true Ruler," she said as she came to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

* * *

**Winterfell**

"We must not speak of such things before the other lords bannermen and their House, Adreya. A proper lady knows when to speak, and when to listen. And you spoke out of turn, little one." Lady Felice took her young daughter's hand once Adrian set her down on the floor again. "A lady is to be seen, not heard on some occasions, and you are but a child, and should not meddle in the affairs of adults."

"Mother, I advise taking them to your chambers, and playing them under guard." Adrian told her. The older woman nodded to her lord-son and turned away, leaving the Great Hall with her daughters.

Moving up the steps to the dais, Adrian knelt at Ellaria's right, taking great care not to seat himself, lest he offend her any further. "Apologies, Your Grace," he whispered into her ear. "Adreya is but a child; she knows the ways of a true lady, but she is young and forgets herself. Please pardon her on my behalf."

* * *

**The Wall: Castle Black**

Jon Snow trudged across the courtyard, and entered the Lord Commander's Tower, or Commander's Keep. Stannis Baratheon had stationed himself here, and Jon had yet to know why. He was angry, for he should have been in King's Landing; he should have been there when Robert died to stop Cersei Lannister from taking the throne and making her prissy son a king. Stannis Baratheon should have been there to take the Iron Throne.

But he wasn't, Jon thought. He wasn't there to take the Iron Throne; he wasn't there to save Father's life. He wasn't there to aid Robb as King In The North, nor does he aid Ellaria now as Queen. So why? Why is he here, at Castle Black?

Stepping into slight warmth from the cold, Jon sighed. Ghost was at his side as he moved about the tower, and came to enter the presence of Lord Stannis Baratheon.

"My lord," Jon nodded in simple greeting. "What brings you to the company of the black brothers?"

* * *

**Winterfell**

"There is no need, Brother," Ellaria gave the thought a dismissive wave, her expression pensive.

"As much as I would have it otherwise, surely half the North knows by now that we have lost more men. She is but a child and has yet to learn better, that is all..."

Adrian winced at the tone in Ellaria's voice. He would have to reprimand Adreya somehow, but he was sure his mother was already seeing to that.

* * *

**Yunkai**

As the 'Unsullied' parted Alessander, alongside the rest of his company, including his son and even his young daughter, instinctively fell to one knee. When he loomed up he was amazed by what he saw. Daenerys was younger than he had expected but she had the confidence and calmness that Rhaegar had, she was clearly his sister. His eyes drifted to the dragons that loomed by her figure and for a split second Alessanders jaw dropped. They were incredible. Until now Dragons had been naught but old wives tales and nursery rhymes to the Gray Kraken but to see them for real, Alessander could scarcely believe his eyes.

"My Queen...my Khaleesi." He sat down tentatively, keeping an eye on the dragons as he did " It is an honour to be here. I must confess I knew little of your current position, I knew only of your dragons and your journey east, I had not realised you possesed such a grand army." the admiral said as he noticed that the gaze of the rest of his crew was displaying a similar awe "I have brought a gift I prepared for you and I hope it pleases you."

Daenerys watched as Ser Alessander bent the knee alongside his children. The Unskilled at her back must seem a formidable force to behold. She waited for a few moments before speaking again. "You may rise, ser. May I be one of the first to welcome you to the conquered city of Yunkai." She gave him a warm smile.

* * *

**Winterfell**

So she knew... Artemis was hardly surprised to say the least, this was the outcome she had anticipated. Ser Brydd sent a worried look in Artemis' direction and took a hold of her arm, wanting to protect her and keep her behind him. But Artemis couldn't do that. This wasn't political, nor was it some attempt to prove anything, this was about her family and doing what she should have done a long time ago. And if she couldn't stand up for once in her life for that, then she might as well have been graced with the values of Lord Walder Frey. 

"Aye My Queen, 'tis a long and an arduous journey especially during such times." Artemis said, her voice level as she stepped away from Ser Brydd's grip and towards the Stark girl. She was so young and had undertaken great responsibility, no doubt her mind was already overwhelmed with decisions and plans, but somewhere down there was the girl who was fighting for her family, was willing to send her small force down South to find her two sisters, to get revenge over her lost family members, to seek vengeance against those who slaughtered her mother and brother. Down there was the girl who knew how important family was.

"Though I remember being told by a young woman, the Lady Lyanna, only a year younger than you are now that there is no jewel nor object more precious than family. I know how important your family is to you, and so I pray that you understand how much this means to me. Please, my Lady if not for my own sake nor that of my husband's then for those of my three children, I beg that you keep this matter a secret." Artemis whispered to the Queen hoping that she would understand her plea.

* * *

**The Wall**

"My Lady, you know my intentions well." Stannis said as he saw her. He sat in his chair and didn't react as she came over, instead he just kept his eyes fixed on the piece of parchment in front of him and read over it. "We are here to save my kingdom from the darkness that plagues it, and when the people see the light, they will know who their true King is. And so we find ourselves here in the North where there has been the more slaughter and horror than in any other part of the realm save for King's Landing itself and where the threat of the White Walkers threatens more than just my title, it threatens my people. This is where we are to commence our crusade. And now we need to know who will ally themselves with us." He spoke in a serious tone. As she wrapped her arms around him, Stannis stiffened remembering how he had broken his marriage vows in order to create a shadow child with the red priestess. He didn't particularly care for Selyse but he would avoid humiliating her if he could avoid it.

"Melisandre, please- " Stannis interrupted pulling away from her touch. "Make yourself decent we are to be expecting the bastard child of Eddard Stark any minute now."

As Jon Snow entered the room, Stannis offered him the seat opposite him. 

"Your Grace-" Stannis corrected Jon as he called the Baratheon King a Lord. "And may I introduce the Lady Melisandre who has been a faithful adviser of mine and priestess to the God R'hllor, Lord of Light."

"I am here because of this." Stannis showed the letter from the Wall that had arrived at King's Landing. "Your plea for help, answered by one King in the Seven Kingdoms. On my quest to take back my throne, I was reminded that there would be no realm for me to govern should I let it fall into the clutched of darkness now. I have helped you win this War and I will help you prepare for the next but my journey is leading me away from here to deal with other matters in the North, including your half-sister. Her brother was guilty of treason but I will offer her the chance to set matters right again. I knew your father, Jon Snow, though he was no friend of mine. But only a fool would doubt his honour or his honesty, I hope your sister has inherited that much at least."

Jon made a face; the expression flashed but he hid it again.

"You are the true-born heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Yet you left my father to die in King's Landing. Even after he proclaimed you as heir to Robert's throne. A king stands by his men, as you have. Yet the first man to take note of your birthright was beheaded. Your Grace, I am forever thankful for your assistance. I ask you give my sister leave to rule as my brother did. The lands your nephew tried to take belong in the Stark family. The North has always been ruled by the Kings of Winter..... and her new Queen. Let my sister keep the lands she has regained, and in return, I'll ask her to bend the knee."

Stannis ground his teeth at the arrogance of the boy speaking to him. Here stood before him was a King, a seasoned warrior, a tactician, a man of his word and a brother of the Night's Watch dared question his decisions without even beginning to comprehend reality?

"Let me first correct you Jon Snow before we proceed any further." Stannis said "Your father sent me no bird to tell me of his position, instead he appeared to have given his position away to the Lannisters before informing me. And as he was executed but a few days later, it was hard for me to intervene whilst I was ruling over the remote island my gracious brother left for me. So whilst it is easy to point the finger, you do me great disrespect by over-simplifying the reality of the situation."

Stannis paused a minute, taking a sharp breath in. He was not here to discuss matters of the past, he was here to plan the future of the North. "When I take back the Iron Throne and should your sister ally herself with me, the Starks shall have their titles as Wardens of the North restored, be assured of that. As for Ellaria Stark, I have written a message that I have yet to send to your sister over terms of alliance. But do not assume to ask too much of me Snow, the fate of the Starks lies within the hands of Ellaria Stark." Stannis finished the topic. Though he had one more matter to discuss with Jon Snow. "As the Watch is still in need of a Lord Commander, I will direct this matter to you. My army and I have travelled far from Dragonstone and in return for coming to your aid against the Wildlings, I ask that you provide my men with shelter, food and provisions until they have recovered the strength to continue onwards."

* * *

**King's Landing:**

Kevan sighed briefly before saying his part of this discussion

"I'm sorry but I must agree with Cercei in this matter. A knight need not only to have his swordarm trained, but his mind as well. Especilly in your case, since you're the prince of all of Westeros."

He ended with a dramatically tone at the last part of the sentence. He continued by saying

"Now. I'll need to continue my inspection on the guard."

He bowed towards the three while saying "Ser Loras, Cercei, Tommen" in a polite way. Then he continued his stroll down the corridor, having his thoughts on his own son, Lancel Lannister.

* * *

**Hall of Wull somewhere along the Bay of Ice:**

Hugo "Big Bucket" Wull sat on his chair, made by oaks from Wolfswood, eyeing certain family members and his strongest warrios around the table in the great hall.

He said in a loud and stern voice

"Family, brothers in arms. My man which I sent south to see how the situation have now returned, as most of you know already. He tells me of how Queen Stark and her lords are struggling against the traitorous Bolton's and their lot."

He coughed loudly and harsh, taking a large chug from the mug filled with ale before continuing:

"As I know most of you, and me, wants to aid The Queen in this war as we aided King Robb. -But- Deepwood Motte are under Iron scum controll, which mostly blocks our path to Winterfell, and as cowardly as this sounds, we do not have enough men, nor power to take Deepwood Motte alone."

Several persons around the table began to get agressive, saying outmost foul words about the Ironborn. Hugo ended the riot by yelling out through the hall

"Silence, family and brothers!!" They all went silent, once more.

"We will have to prepare ourself for the time when someone re-takes the castle, so prepare to make weapons and armour of what we can. I aim to be ready when the time comes."

* * *

**Winterfell**

As harsh as the thought may have been, Ellaria was more than glad to see that at least someone was cautious; however she was just as glad not to make yet another enemy for herself unintentionally. The young woman gave a heavy sigh and shook her head as her eyes took in the subtle ripple of tension that came over Lady Serrett's man.

"Peace, Ser. I mean no ill will, by any means," she said as she tried not to sound offended. "I want merely informing your Lady that there is no need for falsehood. She was born in the snow-- and to the snow I would have all of the North return."

Ellaria's tone had been ominous, but she offered the company a pleasant enough smile. She rose hoping to appear more friendly and descended the dais to meet her. Holding out her habds to Artemis, she said, "And surely you are lucky, then, to have known a woman such as my father's sister. I am honored to have you here in my home my Lady; have no worries: us Northerners can be discrete, despite what people say."

Ellaria's smile grew warmer. "Although I must say that while your motives are painfully obvious, I apologize that my lands are not safe enough for your children to brave. I am sure Adreya and Adryna would have welcomed new playmates."

* * *

**The Wall**

Melisandre, slightly put out that her honorable king was resisting the further temptation she offered, retreating as Stannis commanded. However she was more than comfortable in her currently mussed state; she did not obey Stannis as willingly. Melisandre's mouth gave a small, barely noticeable quirk as Jon entered the chamber.

"Well met Lord Commander. I knew of your father, Edward Stark. He was a brave man to stand against The True King's enemies-- even thought I am sure he knew if the consequences he was to face."

Melisandre gave him a quirk of a smile; a mysterious quirk that hinted at future booms and foreshadowed dire circumstances. She moved towards Jon slowly, her bare feet drawing a circle around his person on the floor as she paced about.

"We would have you continue his work, my Lord-- aid us, and be well suited to your needs." She paused just in front of him, gazing into Jon's face with such an intensity that it permeated the air with a sensitivity that made something deep within her bones twinge.

"We need you, Jon Snow. It is just as well that you need us all the same. You are my King's key to a steady rise to hisvthrone by birthright, and we are surekybthe key to the salvation of Westeros. Would you have him interrogate Mange Rayder, my Lord" she asked the question so softly of Stannis.

* * *

**Winterfell**

It was a common knowledge amonhst the northeners that House Mormont was not the most wealthy Noble House at this side of Westeros. Yet few were able to stand ewual to the strength, bravery and most importantly, the unwevearing loyalty of Lady Maedge and her family. The intimidating yet humble figure of Aerik Mormont translated just that. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he was clad in his boiled leather and chainmail, though the one defining aspect to his wardrobe would be his pelt. Aerik was always seen with the pelt of a great black bear upon his shoulder, the head coming to rest upon his left breast. Fastened in place by great iron rings linked to his leather breast piece. The leather and chain are all dyed and stained green and black, as the colors of his house though rgrey shows upon his breast as fealty to House Stark. Simple yet well-made leather boots protect his feet with leather leggings tucked into them. As he entered the Hall he spotted various members of Lord Adrian Shadewoods family as well as another woman that Ellaria was conversing with. The guards didn't stop him when he walked past them, as the Iron Bear was a familiar face. He walked towards his liedge lady but stopped far out. The Queen was busy with other matters, and so he decided to wait until it was his turn to speak.

Tybalt's bum was beginning to get sore as Lann started getting restless. It had been several minutes since Ellaria had entered the Great Keep and he was beginning to bore. 

Without a second thought, the young Lannister hopped off his horse and headed to see what was taking so long. He surprised himself when he recognized the guest and immediately called out, "Lady Serret!"

* * *

**Just outside Winterfell**

He had never quite been able to decide which held his fancy more, a journey by horse or by ship. Sure, he loved the briny smell of the sea more than the scent of snow and pine that came with the north. However, a horse granted a greater feeling of speed and control. The wind and sea always had better control of your vessel than you did, after all. Galen chuckled softly and stroked the neck of the white destrier he was riding. Squall had hated the boat trip here, snorting and kicking the whole way, but Galen had yet to find a faster or more intelligent horse and both attributes would undoubtedly prove useful here. 'Well, it's not like you're the only one who's unhappy with the journey.' He thought as he looked back at the three armoured riders behind him.

* * *

**2 weeks earlier, at sea**

"Do you have to be like this?" Galen looked up at the bearded face of his captain and stretched. "What else would you have me be like, Lucian?" The gruff man made a frustrated noise and pulled on his beard. "I serve you happily." He said, quietly. "But to see you behave like...."

"Like a young merchant of simple birth?" Galen chuckled. "Relax, dear man. I know this is a bit of a shock for you, but you can call me m'lord again once we reach the shore." He stood up and, after a quick glance around, fixed Lucian with a firm look. "Besides, let me remind you, leaving in this manner took long and careful planning. I will not have you glaring at me for the entire trip. It fits the illusion, but my patience has limits." He brushed his hands down the brown tunic he wore with a sigh-He hated wearing something like this, but there was no way he could leave unnoticed in his finery-and turned to face the sea.

Lucian sighed heavily and leaned against the railing. "Sorry, m'lo-Tim." He quickly switched back to the illusion when a sailor walked past. "It's just that I fear that, at some point, they'll realize the contents of out chests are a bit heavy for plain ores. When they find tridents, armour and a valyrian steel blade....Well...." He gestured to indicate how fast news would spread and Galen laughed. The news that he'd left Pentos unannounced would not hinder his affairs overly much, his hidden friends kept a close eye on them after all. It would just make some of the magisters a bit harder to deal with. Still news could travel both ways and they'd left in secret like this not because of the magisters, but someone else entirely.

"Should we not have sent word?" Lucian asked for the sixth time since they'd left. Galen turned and raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. I wish to see this queen in the north without the veil of preparation. If we are not to each other's liking....Well...The war has taken its toll on King's Landing. I'm sure the Lannisters will be most accommodating." He rested his chin on his first and smiled as he watched the fin of a shark surface next to the boat. "Once we choose, there will be no chance to change sides without losing face. I do not intend to lose face."

* * *

**Present day, Winterfell**

Thankfully the rest of the trip had gone smoothly and now he found himself with Lucian and two other guards in Winterfell. The guard they were approaching eyed the group uncertainly and Galen couldn't blame the man. They undoubtedly made for a strange group to these northerners. So close to their destination they had dispensed with their disguises and the change was obvious.

In his cobalt blue armour and teal cape Galen was hard to identify as anything but a noble. However, the make of the armour was clearly foreign and his sun-tanned skin was not exactly common in the north. Of course the guards attracted no less attention in their more plain silver-grey armour, tridents in hand and nets coiled and tied to their saddles.

"Lord Galen Freyr, prince of Pentos, wishes to speak with her majesty the queen in the north." Lucian said as he pulled his horse to a stop in front of the guardsman. Proof of his identity was provided easily enough through Galen's signet ring and the golden chain of the prince of Pentos and before he knew it Galen found himself in the halls of the ancient castle. The she-wolf was clearly busy with an audience, and another waiting patiently, so he waved off the guard when the man made to announce him. He'd wait.....for now.

"Your Grace, I am thankful for your understanding and for your discreti-" Artemis was about to reply until she cringed at the sound of her name ringing through the halls of the Keep. She didn't need reminding of who the voice belonged to, having never heard him remain quiet for a second at any occasion. And despite being only 4 years older than him, right about she felt like slapping around the head as though he was a child. She glanced around the Hall, and saw the heads of several important Northern families. She felt the heat flush to her cheeks and she slowly stepped back.

"Perhaps another time, you seem to have a large audience to attend to at the present moment-" Artemis curtsied once more before turning away and keeping away from crowds and in the shadows made her way over to Tybalt Lannister. She dismissed the rest of her guard before turning to him, she wanted to be angry with him but neither was she in the mood for an argument nor was she prepared to blame him when he didn't know of her situation. Beside, he was a Lannister and it would be unwise for her to provoke an argument. Especially in such delicate times and under such circumstances.

"My lord," She said giving a small curtsy. She looked up at him, a confused look in her green eyes. "I thought you were being held captive? Yet you wander around the halls of Winterfell as though you were an honorary guest. Is your father aware of your condition? For we have heard naught but tales of the humility and degradation House Lannister has suffered due to your capture." She said looking over the man before her.

Tybalt chuckled and looked at his new Northern wear, "Well these are rather recent changes but it seems to have an effect on me. The local apparel seems to suit me just as well as the silks of the south. And come now Artemis, I thought I told you to call me Tybalt. After all, Lord Serret has been on of my closest friends since childhood. How is he by the way? At least I'm hoping you saw him before you left. My father and sister have definitely blown this whole thing out of proportion, what with the burning of the Riverlands and the calling of the banners and everything else. Oh and how are the little ones? It feels like forever since I saw them. Hell I think the last I saw them was three years ago. That would make the oldest one about..."

Tybalt had this uncanny skill of rambling off from a subject rather quickly. While he had meant to simply ask why she was this far from Silverhall, his mind began to wander to little things instead. If someone didn't stop him soon, he could keep going for the rest of the afternoon.

Well.....That was interesting. Galen smirked to himself at that little exchange as he pretended to be spellbound by one of the nearby wall fixtures. A lion in the She-wolf's court. Not just any lion either. Tybalt Lannister, the laughing lion. At least, if his sources were correct in who had and had not been captured in the fighting so far. As it appeared now, they had been mistaken. When it came to the captured part, anyway. The man certainly didn't have the air of a prisoner about him, in fact he seemed to be rambling more than even the most gossip hungry merchant's daugters. Either this was the laziest jailbreak in recorded history or others had grown accustomed to seeing their prisoner wandering the halls. Maybe the She-wolf was trying for peace with the Lannisters? That would be...Dull, but perhaps also wise.

Still, if the young queen was anything like the stories of her brother than this was highly unlikely. They had beheaded her father, killed her twin and her mother and still held her younger sisters. Her words and actions had made it clear she would see the lions burn for these crimes. He paused and then laughed softly to himself. Well, maybe 'burn' was more of a Targaryen thing, but he still doubted she would back down so easily. He reached for the canteen at his belt and took a healthy swig of wine, sighing happily as it drove the cold from his body. No wonder these people kept going on about how winter was coming, it was bloody cold so far up north.

Ellaria noticed movement behind Lady Serrett's company, and her pewter eyes took in the large shape of Aerik Mormont. She gave him a nod of respect, acknowledging his presence within the Hall.

"Lady, go to your father. I am sure he is awake and--" Ellaria's attention was averted when the great doors opened yet again to reveal none other than Tybalt Lannister.

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow at him; she was about to ask him how he could be so rude until Artemis spoke, and Ellaria returned her curtsy graciously as possible in hunting leathers. Ellaria let them be and turned to Ser Aerik just as the doors o poo ened again-- to reveal quite the bold sight of a men in shining armor attended by his own suited men. She was glad the Hall was of a nice size; Ellaria swore her visitors made up half of the remaining court of Winterfell.

"Good morn, Ser Aerik, " she stepped over to him, smiling at the familiar face. "I trust that sleep came easier to you than I? Trust that we will speak shortly, goodman."

Ellaria gave him another nod and turned to address the gilded newcomer. "Welcome to Winterfell, my lord. May I ask from where you hail?"

* * *

**The Wall**

Jon frowned hard at Stannis' words. Lord Commander.... Jon would make sure to consult Maester Aemon on the proposition.

"His name was EDDARD m'lady. Eddard Stark was born of the Kings of Winter who have held reogn over the North for thousands of years. He was my father. And you could have been at his side. It was you of all people who should have been there for him, at his side. He waited for you...." Jon sighed shaking his head.

"My thanks, Your Grace." He needed to control of his tongue before it was taken. Jon bowed. "My thanks for your consideration and support."

* * *

**Winterfell**

Adrian stood and hailed to Lord Aerik.

"Good morn, my Lord." Adrian greeted the older man. "And to you as well, Your Grace." He said to the Prince of Pentos.

"May you enjoy your stay in the North."

Ellaria blinked at Adrian before her eyes flashed back to the other man.

"You are Galen Freyr?" She gasped, her eyebrows raising.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, for I have never seen your face or likeness but only heard your name. Nor do you fly a banner...." she frowned slightly, shaking her head.

"Forgive me," she murmured, cheeks burning as she curtsied.

'Here we go.' Galen thought as he turned to face Ellaria and bowed deeply. "I am truly honoured to meet you, your grace." He said, smiling at the young Stark. "As you just heard I hail from the most beautiful of the free cities. I am Galen Freyr, the Prince of Pentos and ruler of all matters that concern the matters of defence, spending, law and order of my city and holds." He straightened up and brushed a few strands of dark hair from his eyes, throwing Adrian an amused smile. " You are well informed, m'lord. I suppose I owe my guard captain some gold now. I had hoped to pass the last few towns and farms without any noticing." He turned his attention back to Ellaria. "I hope you will forgive me for not announcing my intentions in writing. The magisters have a nasty habit of-" He cut himself off with a shake of his head and chuckled. "Ah, but there I go about my duties and my fair city. Forgive me. There are things I should speak of first." He inclined his head and his smiled turned somber. "I am certainly not the first to say this, but I am sorry for your loss. I have never met your brother, but many men twice his age could not boast of exploits like his." He paused to fiddle with the clasp of his cloak. "The free cities generally do not involve themselves in wars that do not threaten their walls. I am here this day to bring change to that." His hand briefly came to rest on Banshee's hilt, but he quickly realized how that gesture might be interpreted and moved it away. "Of course, I do not do this lightly. Singers tell me your cause it just, but singers weave truth and falsehood like an old fishwife weaves the rope for a net. I should know. I was one."

He glanced around the room and his eyes briefly lingered on Tybalt before they turned back to Ellaria. "As you undoubtedly understand by now, I have come to take your measure and to see if you would wish to see the tridents of Pentos amongst your men." With his motivation out in the open, Galen raised an eyebrow at the She-wolf. "If that is not too presumptuous, your grace."

"All is well, think nothing of it; it seems that we shall have to score twice as much game on the hunt," she waved away his apology.

He wasn't exactly the first person to ride to Winterfell without sending a raven ahead of themselves. Her eyes flickered to his moving hand, she was reminded that now was not the time to be exceptionally gracious to every other nobleman she met.

"But you come to offer much needed aid, and for that I am grateful; I was not aware that my twin brother's bravery reached so far across the Narrow Sea. Your presence is quite welcome, and your condolences are taken to heart. But on to lighter topics; come and sit with me, if it pleases you." She said, and moved towards the dais.

Ellaria called for wine as she sat on her throne. Catiously, she resumed. "I have heard stories, though, of Pentos. I would think that you have heard something of me and mine in return. You come to offer your tridents, Highness, but there are who say that my cause is as lost as Valyria. What would you have of me in return?"

Galen smiled widely as he sat down. "A young man gathering his banners to avenge the death of his father and gain independence? Wars have been fought for less noble causes your grace, and certainly many for less interesting ones." He accepted a goblet of wine with a thankful smile. "Now, what would I have of you? I can think of many things, but the hard part of ruling is to choose between personal desires and those that benefit my city. Young as I am I learned that soon enough and I imagine you have too. It's something I have to force myself to remember, at times." He chuckled and raised the wine to judge the bouquet. "I want men to speak of me with awe for generations. I want songs of my feats and to die after a long life with a loving wife at my bedside." Okay, so he'd be perfectly happy to die young in the bed of a pretty young thing with breasts the size of his head, but this probably wasn't the conversation to bring that up.

He sipped the wine as he collected his thoughts and smiled. "Of course, following a beautiful young queen into battle gives me a good chance at this. However, I want different things for my city, which brings us to more serious points." He looked the She-wolf dead in the eyes as he continued, careful to keep his own from showing anything besides friendliness. "Taxes on trade spring to mind. Younger Pentosi merchants find it hard to invest in different forms of trade in the 7 kingdoms because of the heavy taxes they are charged for each sale. Should you win I would like to see these adjusted. Trade relations in general could bear some improvement and a promise of aid should Pentos' walls be threatened by a force we can neither bribe or best would be very important."

He swished the wine around in his goblet and paused to let her digest the information before moving to the most important point. "Finally I would like to know that, should I swear steel and ship to hour cause, they will not go to waste." He leaned forward and pulled his clothes and armour out of the way to reveal the wicked v-shaped scar that ran from the left of his collarbone to the right, barely missing his throat. "If you will permit me a blunt moment to ensure we understand each other. With all that you have lost, can you still choose between personal desires and those that serve greater purpose?" His eyes hardened briefly and a wry smiled pulled at his lips. "Tell me, Queen in the North, who or what is your cause now? More importantly should I believe the doomsayers, or are tales of the North's strength true and will you fight and win, knowing you will come out scarred either way?"

* * *

**The Wall**

Stannis began to grow tired of the boy's unwillingness to listen and his clear lack of knowledge of the situation in King's Landing. His hand curled into a fist as he listened to Jon Snow. "I would be most grateful if you would speak to the Lady Melisandre with more respect." He said first of all, the priestess had come far from her origins as a slave in Essos and she had risen to become a trusted advisor to Stannis, he would not allow her to spoken to as such. Though he looked at her and motioned for her to stand back for the moment whilst he discuss matters with Jon Snow seriously.

"Secondly, allow me to clear this up for you; I could not have been at his side even if I had willed it. Eddard Stark was executed before any of my ships could've reached King's Landings, he had not sent me any prior letter stating his support for my right as King. And he did not wait for anyone to come to his aid, he told the Lannisters his knowledge before confiding in his allies so limited his possibilities and sealed his fate by his doing alone." Stannis said. "So I would also be appreciative should you not blame me for such an act."

The Baratheon King paused for breath as he composed himself. "But we have not come all this way to talk of your father, Jon Snow. So if you please, let us put the past aside and discuss our present situation. Whether or not Ellaria Stark decides to accept my offer of alliance to her, I will be in need of resources for my men and shelter for them." He said "And there is another matter I wish to discuss with you that my Lady brought up, on the topic of Mance Rayder, he shall be offered to the Lord of Light to answer for his crimes as a deserter. And as for the other Wildlings, I have no want to dispose of thousands of folk for following a man who offered them protection. I ask that you lodge those that willingly bend the knee in various abandoned posts in the Gift." Stannis concluded what he wanted from the boy and awaited his response.

* * *

**Winterfell**

Artemis stood patiently as she let him talk, there was no use trying to stop him. Though she could've thought of several people she'd rather be talking to, only one of them could be found in Winterfell at the present moment, so she didn't try and push away one of the only people she knew in the city.

"I can second you on your opinion of the northern attire, a little less elegant, but then again I was never very good at impressing the noblewomen of King's Landing." Artemis noted, something he certainly shouldn't have issues with... she thought to herself. "As for Lord Serrett, I have heard little other than he is alive and holding his own on the battlefield, it has been an age since I last saw him though, or at least it feels like one. But the children are doing well enough though they all seem to have inherited their father's stubborn, playful and fiery personality. Thea has recently celebrated her 15th name day and is relentless in her search for her one true love to take her away on an adventure, and the boys are as wild and reckless as ever-" She paused a moment thinking of her children, possibly giving the Septas and the servants a real headache at the current moment. "But on the topic of your own family, I'm uncertain as to how much you know, or how much you wish to know for that matter. Have you written to them? Do they know of your condition? Lord Tywin is furious and whether the stories have exaggerated the situation or not, there is still damage being done to the reputation of House Lannister whilst the rest of Westeros considers you to be held prisoner."

Tybalt gave a nod in reply, "I have just recently sent my father a letter by raven. He should receive it later this day. As for the prisoner part, I am now a comfortable guest and will be acting as negotiator between my family and the Starks. This war has been useless and stupid. I hope to have your husband back home with you as soon as possible along with the other lords. Peace will be here soon and I hope it may remain."

The young lord gave the lady a reassuring smile. He was going to do his best to help both the West and North in these negotiations. As long as Cersei and Joffery wouldn't know about them...

Ellaria's fine brow rose slightly as Galen spoke his peace; his words brought a quirk to the corner of her mouth more than once. They were pretty and he was a bit of a flatterer, but the he was honest: she would give him that.

At the mention of personal desires, though, Ellaria found her eyes wandering before she could stop them to a man in linens befitting of a Northern Lord--although his blonde hair and green eyes told a different tale of origin. She tore her eyes away before her actions were noticed by any of the ton--or worse, the Southerner himself--and attempted to quell the blood that rushed to her cheeks as she gave Lord Freyr the attention he deserved.

Ellaria's timing could not have been wiser to heed, for her eyes collided with his just as she turned. Her brow furrowed softly at his intense expression, and ss Galen explained his position, she found herself nodding sagely as her mind was steeted into economics. Exclusive trade with the Free Cities certainly wasn't the worst of offers Ellaria had received since the Bannermen crowned her. The war had been hard for the North; with the Winter's husbands, sons, and brothers fighting for the survival of their ressurected kingdom, both import and export were at a standstill. Although the people were surviving for now, it would not be much longer before supply lines from White Harbor dwindled to nothing. Then Ellaria would only be queen of a dying people.

The young woman took a sip of wine from the goblet that sat yet untouched before her, but she nearly choked on it as Galen then presented a healed, albeit jagged scar to her. It was no doubt a token he was gifted while on his worldly travels as a Singer. Ellaria's lips tightened into a thin line, and a mixture of wonder and sympathy at the pain he surely felt in receiving this mark worked its way into her expression.

"If I may, Highness..." she murmured softly, and reached towards the raised line without much thought to Pentosi customs so far as personal space went.

"With all that I have lost..." she whispered, tracing the scar in its slightly gruesome entirety.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat and pulled away from Galen, having realized that her hall had fallen somewhat quiet. She felt the blood rush to her face again at her own rudenesd but had no inclination to restrain the flow this time. Clearing her throat again, she stood and faced him; Ellaria answered him.

"These people-- they are my people. They are the family the gods saw reason to gift me after they took back everyone else," she said, gesturing to everyone within the shelter of the Great Hall. "I need them to stand with me--and they need me to stand with them, my lord. To stand for them. To stand as them. They are my cause." She smiled at him warmly.

"I only ask that you trust in whomever you would. Choice is yours, of course. I can beg you for aid and offer whatever is in my power to grant, but we both know that you will lend men to whomever aids you most in your own endeavors, be they personal or otherwise. I am in need of men, yes, and would have your tridents blend in with my steel-- by your will. I cannot promise that we would be victorious, whatever l would believe, but I can promise you and your a men a damn good fight."

A heavy sigh made her chest heave, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders as the excitement of her personal plans came back to her.

"Now enough talk of war and politics!" She exclaimed, gesturing towards Galen, Artemis, and their men. "Would you all do me the honor of a good Hunt, if you are able? " A warm smile graced her features as she felt the softness of fur on her hand, and she glanced down at her silver-white direwolf.

It was a common joke between Dacey and Aerik that sometimes, she said, he could be the North embodied. And it was not a lie. At times, and especially now, Aerik Mormont had every reason to be cold and distant to outsiders. And now, this Prince from Pentos arrived before the Queen of North to offer allegiance and armies to aid her cause. Living on the Bear Island, their port had s few visits from merchants beyond the Narrow Sea. But Aerik had little tolerance for their customs. The way they over each other as they preen about like birds with too colorful feathers. The War of the Five Kings helped Aerik develop a greater sense of Kinship with the rest of his fellow First Men descendants. This is what they needed if they were to punish the turncloaks that resided in the Dreadfort and the Twins. Loyalty had to come first....

The ice of his thoughts seemed to be heated as the Queen proposed a hunting session "My cousin might be unable to join us your grace, but I will be honored to be allowed to represent House Mormont on her stead." The Iron Bear replied first with a booming voice. Hunting was one of his beloved activities back on Bear Island and he was sure that the Wolfswood would offer plenty of game.

Ellaria's face turn towards The Iron Bear, and her grin was rueful.

"We shall feast well tonight, then! Perhaps we only need send you into the Wolfswood on your own to fill our table, Ser Aerik" she praised, her voice full of mirth.

"And perhaps we may speak of any news you have brought me? Come then and ride with me. Adrian! Tybalt! We shall at last be off. My Lady Serrett, if your men wish to accompany us, they may." Ellaria pulled her hood up and gave her an avkowledging nod before she turned away to exit the Hall.

Galen couldn't quite suppress a twitch, though he hoped he'd managed to disguise it as a casual shift of his weight on the seat, as Elllaria's fingers trailed over his scar. It had always been sensitive in a strange way. He clearly felt the pressure of her fingers, but texture and temperature were much harder to make out. The first time someone had touched it he had nearly jumped out of his skin, thinking someone had pressed a blade to him to repeat the move that left the scar there in the first place.

When the young queen pulled her hand back, he rearranged his clothes and armour and leaned back to ponder her answer. It wasn't very different from one he would have given. Granted, he felt she was somewhat quick in labelling her people family, but was that so bad? Though not by much, she seemed younger than him and she was certainly new to her role as queen, so perhaps some of the realities of that position had not set in quite yet. Of course, she could have just been waxing poetic but, in all stories he'd heard about the Northeners and the Starks in particular, nobody had described them as the sort to do so. 'Words as harsh as their winters and a clear as ice.' He thought as he studied the queen.

Still, Ellaria had a very open face and it made her appear-ironinicaly for someone born in the north-warm. If the blushing was anything to go by, she was also not particularly hard to read. Charisma was important and the young woman seemed to have it.

Galen stood up and stretched, smoothing out his cloak. He would study Ellaria Stark a bit longer. She had made a very good impression......But even the best deals could turn sour if your partner was less than they appeared. Still, in just a few moments he had seen much promise. He followed her out of the hall, gesturing for his guards to follow as he did. As he passed a guard he noticed a frown on the man's face from the corner of his eye. It took him a while to realize that it probably had something to do with the fact that his eyes were glued to the queen's behind. 'What? I'm not even allowed to look?' He chuckled wryly and quickly turned his eyes elsewhere.

_'Uptight Westerosi. What good is the flower if you try to limit who admires it?'_

"Aye, there has been too much bloodshed already and I agree that this war should end as soon as it can. I pray that both Lord Tywin and Ellaria Stark share the same opinion as you do. Though I doubt the northerners will negotiate with the Lannisters willingly, I can only pray that you have lost none of your charisma from your time in the North, because it will be sorely needed if you are to persuade the majority in Winterfell." She said to Tybalt whilst glancing around at the heads of noble houses from near and far. It would seem that as a negotiator, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

"Though the North is not the only area rife with activity, King's Landing has not seen a dull moment since the death of Eddard Stark and I'm sure you've heard of Sansa's marriage to your brother, Lord Tyrion but there are many more upcoming celebrations planned: Queen Cersei is unhappily betrothed to the young Ser Loras Tyrell and Joffrey pledged to Loras' sister, Margaery. I have heard nothing of Myrcella but Tommen is doing well and is as sweet as ever. You would be glad to hear that your brother Jaime has finally returned, however he has lost his right hand in his journey South." Artemis summarised what had happened in King's Landing so Tybalt was aware of what was happening back at home and how the remainder of his family was fairing during the War.

She was stopped though, as Ellaria spoke and despite her want to go hunting, she had duties to attend to that would be immature to put off for games and sports. Besides, she had no desire to get caught up amongst all the heads of Northern allies, it was all too dangerous. "I'm afraid I feel that I may have to decline your offer," Artemis smiled apologetically as she turned away from Tybalt.

Aerik bowed his head in respect as the Queen of the North passed to exit the Hall. Yes, today he would be at his best game, to please his Queens expectations. He was quick to head to his personal chambers to change to his leather hunting attire, and then head down to the stables, his squire Robin Snow, an armourers bastard son from Bear Island followed in tow, carrying a handful of throwing spears with him. "Prepeare the horse Robin, whichever you see fit. We shall go after rabbits and stags before we begin hunting Boltons..." The Iron Bear coldly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode Two: The Umber Threat is officially over!
> 
> *Rolls Ending Credits with the Game of Thrones Theme*
> 
> Credits:
> 
> The One True Queen as Queen Cersei Lannister, Queen Ellaria Stark, Lady Melisandre of R'hollor, and Prince Tommen Baratheon  
> .......  
> maesteroftales as Lord Tybalt Lannister and Lord Tyrion Lannister  
> .......  
> Keegan Gentle as Ser Markus Reullius  
> .......  
> Tinuviel's Undomiel as Lord Adrian Shadewood, Adryna and Adreya Shadewood, Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Ser Mason Umber, Queen Jeyne Stark, Lord Jon Snow, and Ser Jorah Mormont  
> .......  
> Return of the Valkyrie as Lady Artemis Serrett, Ser Bayard Norcross, Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Hother Umber, and King Stannis Baratheon  
> .......  
> Nightwing95 as Ser Alessander the Gray, Ser Aerik Mormont, and Alysanne Mormont  
> .......  
> Orcaid123 as Lord Hugo Wull, Ser Lyle Tokenhall, and Ser Kevan Lannister  
> .......  
> Waves of Wind as Lord Galen Freyr
> 
> Episode Three: ------- Coming Soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Episode One: The She-Wolf is officially over!
> 
> *Rolls Ending Credits with the Game of Thrones Theme*
> 
> Credits: 
> 
> Keegan Gentle as Ser Markus Reullius
> 
> ....
> 
> maesteroftales as Tybalt Lannister and Tyrion Lannister
> 
> ....
> 
> The One True Queen as Cersei Lannister, Ellaria Stark, and Winter's Keeper
> 
> ....
> 
> Tinuviel's Undomiel as Adrian Shadewood, Adryna and Areya Shadewood, Danaerys Targaryen, and Felice Shadewood.
> 
> Episode Two: Coming Soon!


End file.
